


Zoolympus

by penfae



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad Puns, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Inspired by Hades and Persephone (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:16:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 45,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24614380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penfae/pseuds/penfae
Summary: The retelling of Hades and Persephone starring Nick Wilde and Judy Hopps that nobody asked for - complete with terrible animal puns and a sprinkling of the classic mythology.Judy doesn't want to be a glorified carrot farmer for the rest of her immortal life. Soon, she'll break out of her mother's shadow and prove her worth as a goddess. Nick, resigned to rule his realm in solitude, has no interest in a consort. The king of the gods has other plans for them both.
Relationships: Judy Hopps & Nick Wilde, Judy Hopps/Nick Wilde
Comments: 171
Kudos: 258





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Updates will be weekly.

The fox suppressed a shudder as the air grew heavy around him. The king was visiting. And the fox was not in the mood. 

Not that he was ever in the mood for this kind of visit. 

The tension in the air released with a pop. The fox kept his head down, intently working away at what he hoped looked like an important ledger, but was in reality a tedious account of minor staff complaints. He liked to push the king’s buttons, when he could. Part of his image, and beyond that, just for fun.

It took less than a minute for the king to stomp a hoof on the marble floor, impatience rolling off him. The fox dragged his gaze up, as though he were irritated by the inconvenient disruption. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure, my lord?” he asked in a drawl.

“Come, brother. It’s not as though I never stop by for a social visit.”

They both knew this was not true. The fox kept his face neutral as he waited. The king had appeared as a bull today. He could take any form, being all powerful and such, but this was his preference. 

The king sighed protractedly, his wide nostrils flaring. “Fine. I’ll get to it. It’s time for you to take a wife.”

“I’ve made it clear I have no interest in doing such a thing.”

“You may be the youngest of us, brother, but in another few centuries or so your energy will wane. Don’t you want someone by your side when that happens?”

The fox pretended to consider this. Then he leveled a flat stare at the bull. “Nope, I’m good.”

“Your attitude may be vastly improved if you took a consort.”

“My attitude?” the fox cocked a brow. “My attitude is why you shackled me to this position, no?”

The king waved a forehoof. “That, among other things.”

“Why don’t we cut the bullshit--” the fox couldn’t suppress a smirk as the king bristled “--and you tell me why you’ve really bothered to come down from your mountain, _brother_.”

“My wife has found someone for you.”

“Ah. Would this someone happen to be one of your many side-pieces? Someone she wants removed from the competition and is punting off onto me?”

“In this case, no. She feels that the two of you would make a good pair, and has entreated me to introduce you.”

“I’ll pass. I know that cow has it out for me.”

The fox went rigid, teeth grinding as his jaw clamped painfully, a bolt of electricity flashing threw him. It was only a second, but he panted as the king lowered his lightning. Too far--he’d gone too far that time. Nevermind that Hayra often did prefer the form of a cow. 

“You’re coming with me,” the king bit out. The fox nodded meekly. 

They stood in a field. The fox threw an arm protectively over his eyes with a muttered curse. The sunlight bothered him at the best of times in this form, but years at a time spent underground would have the unexpected light shooting claws into any mammal’s eyes.

“A mortal?” he asked, incredulous, as he blinked away the remaining pain in his eyes to survey the field. Workers of various mortal types tended the crops, heeding no mind to the gods in their midst. 

“A minor goddess.”

“Of?”

“Agriculture and fertility, so I’m told. Not powerful enough to warrant life on Zoolympus. Despite that, my wife assures me it’s a good match.”

The fox sighed. “Which one is she?”

The bull pointed a hoof to the left, and the fox narrowed his eyes to make out the silhouette in the distance. There was a faint aura of immortality about her short figure, but it was dulled by time spent with the mortals. When he made out the female’s form, he barked a harsh laugh. 

“Fertility goddess, indeed!”

The bull rolled his eyes. “Go get her, then.”

The fox laughed for a few moments longer, then pulled himself together enough to reply. “Are you _kidding_ me?” He waved a paw vaguely over himself. “No way that’s happening. Tell Hayra she needs to try again.”

“No. She’s the one.”

“Sorry, brother. Not a chance. Besides, I’m not interested in kidnapping the poor girl. How old can she be?”

“Old enough.”

“Sure, what’s the difference of a few centuries, am I right?”

“Age? That’s your excuse?”

“That and the fact she’s a _rabbit_. It’s valid.”

“It is not.” The bull gave the fox an imperial stare, and it took more effort than he cared to admit for the fox to keep his tail from winding between his legs. “I don’t care how you get the girl, just that you do it. She’s in your realm by the next full moon, or I step in myself.” 

That was the last thing anyone needed. The king of the gods meddling in the mortal world rarely went well. The fox had little choice at the moment other than to agree--perhaps there was a loophole here, one that he just had to find. He’d always been good at that. “Alright,” he relented. “By next full moon.”

The bull gave a self-satisfied smile before vanishing. The fox lingered in the field only a moment longer before returning to the relative sanctuary of his underground office. A fortnight. A fortnight before he would be forced to steal a girl away from her home, condemning her to life without her family or any semblance of joy.

Lord of the Underworld or not, the fox’s stomach grew leaden at the thought. 

\--------------------------

“Juuuuudy!” 

Judy sighed, and took a second to plaster a smile on her muzzle before turning to face the nymph skipping up to her across the field. 

“Yes, Sharla?” Judy looked patiently at the nymph, in the form of a little black lamb today.

“You have a visitor!”

“A visitor?” 

“Yes! He’s waiting, just across the field.”

“Sharla, I never get visitors. What did he look like? Does he know my mother?”

The lamb frowned a little. “He didn’t say. He just asked for you, and I said I would come get you.”

Judy released another sigh, but smiled fondly at the nymph. It wasn’t her fault that her kind, the spring nymphs, tended to be naive and trusting. Child-like, in so many ways. Her mother wasn’t far--Judy would see what this visitor was about, pass the message to the goddess, and carry on with her work. 

She laid the carrots she had been harvesting into her basket, and brushed her paws off on the skirt of her dress. “Let’s go see, then.”

The lamb smiled at her and skipped ahead, leaving Judy to pace behind her across the field. It was late afternoon, but the sun was still warm on the backs of her ears. 

“There he is, Judy!” Sharla pointed excitedly at the visitor, bouncing on her hoofs.

“Yes, I see him.”

A large cheetah watched them approach with a pleasant smile on his plump face. Judy was not set at ease by the appearance of an unknown predator in her fields. She stopped a wary distance away from the feline.

“You sent for me, my lord?” she said. 

“Oh my good gods, aren’t you cute! I see why they picked you.” The cheetah said it with such genuine enthusiasm that Judy decided to let the “cute” comment slide. 

“Picked me? Excuse me, my lord…”

“Benjamin,” the cheetah supplied.

“My lord Benjamin. If you wouldn’t mind explaining, I’d appreciate it. It’s harvest time and I do have a lot of work to get back to.”

“Oh of course! I have it here somewhere…” Benjamin paused to rifle around a small bag that was slung over one shoulder, and after a moment produced a crumpled piece of paper that he thrust toward Judy. “An invitation.”

Judy grasped the parchment, and struggled to comprehend what was written on it. “A harvest celebration? But it says here that it’s in…”

“The Underworld, that would be correct,” Benjamin confirmed cheerfully.

“Is my mother invited? Usually she is the one who attends these kinds of things. Though I don’t know if she would approve of visiting the Underworld…”

“The gods specifically requested that you be the one to represent the mortal realm, in this case.”

So Bonnie wasn’t invited. Odd that a minor goddess would be invited to a harvest celebration, rather than the Goddess of the Harvest herself--but then again, Judy had been pushing for more responsibility lately, more freedom. She wanted to be more than a glorified carrot farmer for the rest of her immortal life. 

Judy glanced at the invitation again. “When is this party? There’s no date on here.”

The cheetah pressed his paws to his cheeks and grinned widely. “So you’re coming then?”

“I suppose. I can’t exactly decline an invitation from the gods--but only if my mother approves.”

Benjamin squealed, a noise not unlike what Judy was used to hearing from the nymphs, and it set her teeth grinding. Then he reached a paw out for her. Judy pulled away, starting to protest--

The sun and the field disappeared, replaced by a dark expanse of marble that rose around Judy on all sides. Judy whirled, taking in the room. It was some kind of antechamber, sparsely furnished, but comfortable enough. A pair of reclined loungers and a low table with several large platters of food, mostly fruit and cheeses. Still, the place was dark, impersonal--Judy shivered a little in the damp coolness. Benjamin stood beside her, unperturbed, and offered a small smile in her direction. 

“The party starts in just a couple of hours,” he explained. “You need time to get ready.”

Judy’s foot betrayed her anxiety by thumping on the cold stone floor. “I could have gotten ready at my home,” she said. “My lord,” she added, grudgingly. 

“Ah, but then you wouldn’t have time to experience the full scope of our court’s famous hospitality,” a voice drawled from behind Judy. She turned, and froze. 

A red fox smiled lazily at her, his green eyes bright with amusement. The fox glanced at Benjamin. “Clawhauser, a moment, please?”

“Sure thing, bo--buddy,” the cheetah said, amusement in his voice. Then he vanished, leaving Judy alone with the fox. 

“Who are you?” she demanded, drawing herself to her full height. She still only came to the chest of the predator before her. 

“No guesses?”

Judy studied the fox. The faint aura of immortality clung to him, which was to be expected for a resident of the Underworld. No mortals _lived_ down here. The fact that he appeared as a fox, which Judy had only ever seen in pictures and stories before, was disturbing--they were rare, and known for their ruthless manipulation and acerbic natures. They were also once the natural enemy of Judy’s own kind, at least for mortals, and the stories she’d read as a kit had haunted her dreams for years. He was dressed casually, in the fashion of the mortal realm. A simple brown tunic and loose pants. “A servant, of some kind?” she hazarded. 

“You’re not entirely wrong.” The fox continued to examine her with an air of expectation, and Judy’s discomfort threatened to grow into fear. 

“I--I’d like to go home, please. I appreciate the invitation, and please extend my regrets to the hosts--”

“Sorry, darling. You’re stuck with us tonight. But don’t worry, it won’t be for long.”

“What do you mean?”

The fox didn’t answer her. “What’s your name?” she asked instead.

The fox shrugged, and it struck Judy as an oddly elegant gesture. “What would you like it to be?”

“What? No, I just want to know what you’re called.”

“You already know. But for now, let’s go with...Nick.”

“Nick. I’m Judy.”

The fox shrugged again, as if this were an inconsequential detail. “Care for the tour?” he said, as he turned. She followed, not seeing much other choice. 

“You...live here?” she asked, desperate for something to fill the silence as they walked. They didn’t pass anyone as Nick led them through the stony halls. Judy plotted a mental map, in case she had need of the route later, but there were no doors that she could determine led out of the Underworld. And with her own powers as a goddess still embarrassingly underdeveloped, she had no hope of transporting herself back home. 

“Obviously.”

“Are you going to the party?”

“Yup.”

“Do you know my mother?”

“Nope.”

“What do you do for the gods? Do you know...you know, _him_?”

“Do you always ask this many questions?”

“Nobody has seen the Lord of the Underworld in years. I just thought, since you work here...will he be at the party?”

Nick sighed heavily, again forgoing an answer. Then he stopped in front of a door, and held it open for Judy to enter another small chamber.

“Where are we?”

“Get in, get ready. I’ll be back to collect you in an hour. If you need anything, ring the bell, and a female attendant will be with you. Otherwise, you’ll have your privacy.”

“Where will you be?”

“Going to miss me?” the fox snickered. “Don’t worry, I’ll come get you in an hour. Promise.”

With that, the door closed, and Judy was left in the chamber alone. She tested the door--it was locked. She wasn’t going anywhere. And even if she could have left, she had no idea where to go.

Gods, she wished that she had at least had a chance to tell her mother where she was. Bonnie was prone to overreacting at the slightest things when it came to Judy--and that was to say nothing of her father, who was liable to be already in tears over her absence. 

“One night. Sharla will tell mom you were summoned. She can understand that. You’ll be back in the morning, and you can tell them all about how you represented the mortal realm. They’ll have to be proud of that,” she muttered to herself. Her voice did little to calm her fraying nerves as she surveyed the room. It was of the same design as where she had first arrived in the Underworld, but without the food. A dress was draped over the back of one lounger, and a basin of warm water stood beside it. 

Judy sighed as she held up the gown. It was clean, which she couldn’t say for her current dress, but painfully predictable. There was nothing wrong with it, so to speak--it was a light violet, and would match her eyes nicely. The cut was modest but flattering, and to her taste. Whoever made it just hadn’t been able to restrain themselves from adding an embroidery of small carrots at the hem and neckline.

She washed and dressed, then waited stiffly on the recliner for the next forty-five minutes. When a knock sounded at the door, she bolted to her feet.

“Everybody decent in there?” Nick’s muffled voice called from the other side of the door.

“Yes,” Judy said. “Come in.”

The door swung open. Nick waited at the threshold, giving Judy a perfunctory glance as she approached. She took his silence as approval. His own appearance was entirely unchanged. 

“Ready? Party’s started.”

“Yes.”

They made their way wordlessly to the party. Judy marveled at the labyrinth of corridors that made up this area of the Underworld, and Nick’s ability to traverse through them with such assurance. Her own home was complicated in its own way, but there were decorations and landmarks to orient oneself. Here, it appeared, nobody had a penchant for interior design. Perhaps their lord didn’t allow it. 

Judy’s keen ears picked up the sounds of revelry as they rounded a few final corners. Her heart quickened, and she had to fight with her ears to keep them from drooping. She was so intent on maintaining her composure that she gasped in surprise when Nick grabbed her shoulder, tugging her to a halt. 

He released her quickly, but stooped slightly to look into her eyes. Gone was his air of aloof confidence. His emerald eyes bored into hers with an intensity that raised the fur on her arms. 

“Look, Carrots, some rules before you go in there--”

“Don’t call me Carrots,” Judy huffed.

“Sure thing, sweetheart. Now, you haven’t spent time on Zoolympus before, so--”

“And you have?”

The fox pinched the top of his muzzle, closing his eyes for a moment. “Just listen. Do not trust the gods. Do not accept anything from the gods. Do not bargain with the gods. Do not--”

“Do anything. Got it. I’ll keep my head down, and I won’t make trouble. Look, Nick, I’d like to earn my place when the time comes for me to take over for my mother--I’m not interested in cheesing this up.”

“Fine. Let’s go.”

They walked the rest of the way, stepping into a massive ballroom with a vaulted ceiling. Mammals of all kinds--mostly predators and all immortal, except for a few that Judy pegged as servants--were already packed into the space. Judy was amongst the smallest of the attendees, though Nick was also well below the shoulders of most of those present. Despite her grand ideas of maintaining dignity and composure, Judy all but clung to the fox as he parted a course for them through the crowd. It was easier than she anticipated; mammals stepped aside without a glance from him. 

They reached a small clearing in the forest of legs around them, towards the back of the chamber. Judy nibbled at her lower lip as she tried to take in her surroundings--it was still cool and damp, but the party was lively and decorated beautifully. Judy had yet to see a band, but the music was divine, and under it, a current of anticipatory energy rippled through the crowd. 

A servant--a mortal wolf--dressed in fine livery of deep black with silver trim offered a tray of some opalescent pink liquid in a tall glass to Judy and Nick. She reached for one, but Nick batted her hand away and shook his head at the wolf, who wandered back into the crowd. 

“What did we say? Don’t do anything,” the fox hissed into her ear. Judy frowned, and opened her mouth to retort when a firm paw on her back steered her behind the heavy curtain separating the party from the servant’s area. 

She let out a small squeak of protest, and another paw clamped itself over her mouth. Judy struggled to refrain from biting it. Her eyesight had never excelled in the dark, but she could see now that Nick was leading her past a bustling area of servants replenishing trays and clearing plates. The livery of the servants varied widely--Judy guessed that some must have been brought by the attendees. That would account for the mortals present. 

They rounded a corner, and Judy’s inane musings vanished from her mind. She was face to face with her doppleganger. Or close, at least. The grey female stood in front of her, same height and build, same violet eyes, same dress, down to the carrot embroidery. But when Judy looked into those eyes that mirrored her own, they were empty.

She tried to turn to face the fox behind her, freeing her muzzle from under his paw. “What--”

“Keep moving.”

Nick prodded her forward, and in a moment they were in another room, similar to the others that Judy had seen so far in her visit to the Underworld. The fox released her, and Judy turned. She tried--failed--to control the nervous twitching of her nose. 

The fox leaned forward, his ears flat against his head. “Do not move. Stay here until I or Benjamin come back for you. Understand?” 

“What is going on? Who was that girl? She looked just like me.”

“Do you understand?”

“No, I--”

“Carrots, I swear to the gods, if you come out there--”

“I’ll stay here,” Judy squeaked. 

Nick nodded once, and padded out of the room. The door closed softly, and Judy was alone.

She had no intention of staying put. She needed to get home, to get away from whatever was happening here that involved her. Her mother would know what to do after that. Bonnie always knew what to do. 

The door was locked, of course, but Judy had known one or two water nymphs who were a bit more mischievous than their spring counterparts. They’d taught her some handy things, including how to open a door that didn’t want to be opened. Her own powers were just enough that she could ease the process, and with a little determination and an olive fork that had been left on a tray in the room, it was only minutes before Judy had the door open. 

Now to find her way out. The room was in a hall of stone, a continuation of the labyrinth of this place. If she wandered blindly away from the party, she risked getting lost or running into some unsavoury mammals. And it wouldn’t be long before Nick’s canine nose sought her out, anyhow. Benjamin seemed to be a good mammal--perhaps if she found him, she could convince him to take her home. 

Through the party it was. She was small, and figured if she stayed low and quiet, she could escape notice. She couldn’t risk being caught off guard, though, so Judy’s ears were high and swiveled at every noise. She toed through the servant’s area, and approached the curtain that blocked the party. There was no sign of the clone of herself she had seen earlier. A few mammals eyed her warily as she passed by them, but none of the servants made a move to stop her from creeping back to the celebration.

She pulled back the heavy curtain slightly, just enough to peek into the party. The music had stopped, and a hush had come over the crowd. Only servants were still circulating with their trays.

“My good lords and ladies, and other esteemed guests. Welcome!” a large bull said from a raised dais at the head of the party. A smattering of applause followed. Judy searched the crowd, and her eyes found Nick’s flash of red fur easily. He stood to the side of the dais, behind the bull, looking as though he’d rather be anywhere else. Her doppleganger stood at his side, demure and vacant. 

“Many of you may have wondered why this annual gala is being held in the Underworld this year. There is good reason for this--we are here today to celebrate not only the bountiful harvest, but the betrothal of my dear brother, your host.” More hushed whispers rose from the crowd. “Now, our venerable Lord of the Underworld and his bride will have their upcoming union formally blessed by my wife, Hayra.” The bull swept a large hoof towards the cow to his left. 

The light brown cow ascended the dais, and Judy thought she was perhaps the most beautiful mammal she had ever seen, in a bovine sort of way. But if this was Hayra--then the bull was Moos. King of gods.

Judy’s ears wilted with fear. How had she not realized it earlier? She had never seen the king before, but everyone knew his preferred form was a bull. 

Hayra smiled at her husband--there was more than a little hostility there, Judy thought--and waved someone forward. 

Judy clasped her paws over her muzzle as Nick stepped to Hayra’s side, the replica of Judy herself on his arm. 

“It is an honour, my lady,” he said. He bowed stiffly, and the rabbit curtsied. 

Hayra’s smile was positively feral as she looked Nick over. “Do you like the wife I’ve chosen for you?”

“Your taste is as impeccable as ever, my lady.”

“Come dear, let me see you.” The Judy-lookalike stepped forward, and Hayra gripped her chin between both hooves. The rabbit blinked impassively at the cow as her head was turned side to side. 

Judy’s heart rate was dangerously increased. Nick had told her he was a servant--but there he was, beside the king of the gods, and with what was supposed to be _her_. Nothing was making sense. 

Hayra’s eyes narrowed, and she released the rabbit, who stepped back beside Nick. “This is not who I picked for you.”

A collective gasp came over the crowd. “My queen, of course it is. You think I’d dare to question your choice?” Nick replied smoothly.

“I think you’d endeavor to do many things to undermine me, _my lord_ ,” Hayra spat. The king stepped forward, and raised a hoof. 

A lightning bolt appeared in his grip, its raw energy crackling in the air above the crowd of mammals. Nick’s tail fur frizzed out behind him, and his ears pinned back. Judy’s nose twitched frantically as Moos brought the lightning bolt down on the rabbit’s head without hesitation. There was a flash, a crack of thunder, and then an instant of silence. 

Judy rubbed spots out of her eyes. Several surprised exclamations came from the crowd, but Judy could hardly make out anything over her own heart. Where the rabbit made to look like her had once stood, there was now a pile of ash drifting over the feet of the mammals on the dais. 

If she had the ability to vomit, Judy was sure that she would have. 

“You dare defy me!” the bull roared. Lightning still sparked in his grip. Large chunks of the crowd vanished, those with the ability to carry themselves out of the Underworld doing so before any of the king’s wrath was turned on them. 

Judy’s ears strained to pick up the rest of the conversation over the panicked crowd. “Yes,” Nick said quietly. “I do, when your wishes go against my own and would ruin the life of another. You think me cruel, _brother_ , but I am only what this job has made me. Can you say the same?”

“Say what you will of me, it will not change the fact that I am your king, and you will abide. Where is she?”

“I believe she’s under our feet, currently. It’s really quite disrespectful. We treat the dead with some dignity in my realm, you know.”

“Enough,” Hayra’s voice rang out, just as Moos lifted his bolt again. She clapped her hooves once. Judy felt something lash itself to her core, and the force began to tug insistently at her. 

Her feet moved of their own accord. Judy tried to resist, a dull pounding beginning at the base of her skull, but she had no control over her own body. In moments, she had crossed the ballroom and was climbing the steps of the dais.

Hayra gripped her ears as she reached the platform, yanking back on them harshly to force Judy to look into the cow’s face. A small whimper escaped the rabbit. 

“Much better,” Hayra smiled. “Dearest, please send the guests home. We have our bunny.”

Darkness bled into Judy’s vision, and she swayed on her feet. The last thing she heard before hitting the cold marble floor was a snarl.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay safe and well, everyone.

“It’s not like her to disappear this way.”

“She’s always been headstrong, Bon. I’m sure she’s fine. Did you not say a while back that she made friends with some of those water nymphs? They were probably just flitting around and lost track of time.” The sleek polecat picked at her claws, watching the agitated rabbit pace a rut into the ground of the garden.

“Perhaps...but she would have told me. Something feels wrong, Hecat,” Bonnie insisted, casting a worried glance at her friend. 

“Then why are you talking to me instead of finding out where she is?”

“Well, I was trying to not incite panic. You know how nymphs are--it can get exhausting. And Judy’s been asking me for years to have more freedom…”

Hecat sighed, dropping her paws to her waist as she stared down the doe. “She can have her freedom, but you’re a mother, too. Worrying is natural. What’s not natural is how gods-damned annoying it is to watch.”

“I do not tell you enough how much I appreciate your counsel, Hecat,” Bonnie said, with a note of bitterness. But the other goddess was right. Bonnie thumped a hind leg three times, packing a small area of loose soil. In moments, she was facing a small flock of excitable nymphs. 

Bonnie smirked at the mild alarm passing over Hecat’s masked face as the lambs crowded close. A raised paw was enough to silence the clambering voices, most asking what they could do to be of service. It wasn’t often that Bonnie called on the nymphs. The majority were slightly vapid, she thought, but she had been doing this for enough centuries to trust that they could handle their work. Some of them had lent a hoof in raising Judy, after all. 

“Has anyone seen Judy this morning?” the goddess asked. 

Various denials rose from the crowd, and Bonnie’s anxiety returned. She turned her head as Hecat stepped to her side, her black eyes narrowing. 

“You,” the polecat said, thrusting a paw towards a small black sheep. “What do you know?”

Bonnie blinked. “Sharla?” she asked, taking in the black lamb’s quivering jaw. “Do you know something?”

The nymph’s eyes darted around, avoiding Bonnie, and finally fixed on the ground. “She was supposed to be back this morning,” Sharla half-whispered. “I’m so sorry, my lady!” she added in a wail. 

Bonnie’s patience was thin at the best of times, but she took a steadying breath. “It’s alright, dear. Where was she supposed to be coming back from?”

“I don’t know,” the lamb sniffed. “A visitor came and asked for her, so I brought her to him. Then I left, because I’m not supposed to eavesdrop.”

For once, Bonnie wished that the nymph would have let her innate--and usually insatiable--curiosity guide her. “Did you hear  _ anything _ ?”

“No, my lady. I’m sorry,” Sharla said. Before Bonnie could offer comforting words, Hecat waved a paw. 

“Go, now,” she growled. The nymphs dispersed as quickly as they had appeared. The last to go was Sharla, casting a final apprehensive look at the goddesses before trudging away. Likely the nymph was afraid of punishment later. But Bonnie was beyond anger at the flock--she just wanted her daughter back safely.

“Hecat, what can I do now?”

The polecat bared her teeth slightly. “We’ve got a visit to make.”

\------------------

Three days. That was how long Judy had been in this room, oscillating between resisting the urge to throw herself on the bed and weep, and trying to figure a way out of this mess. She had not seen Moos or his terrifying queen since she blacked out. She’d awoken in this room, a much larger one than what she had seen so far in the Underworld, unharmed and alone. 

Benjamin had visited her the first day. Judy had refused to speak to the cheetah, and had ignored his pleas for understanding and offers of friendship. It hadn’t been long before he had slunk out of the chamber, jowls drooping with disappointment. 

Mercifully, Nick had not visited her. Occasionally an attendant, a female polar bear, would come to offer a change of clothing and refill the wash basin. Judy had not even had the nerve to ask if the bear knew anything about Nick’s whereabouts or why she was here. For all she knew, the fox could have been dead, or at least subjected to one of Moos’ horrifyingly creative methods of punishment. Perhaps he was tied to a cliffside awaiting a daily visit from a monster, or bound to an eternally burning wheel.

Judy tried to wish that this were the case. The fox had lied to her, and he was the Lord of the Underworld, a powerful, terrifying entity in his own right. Lying was the least of the sins he was known to have committed. She feared him greatly, but he had spared her, in some way. Hating him outright was impossible, if only for that small act of--what, benevolence? pity? Judy did not know, but she doubted that it was entirely for her sake. 

Still, that act of saving her life was something for which Judy did allow her tears to fall. That poor rabbit, the one who had looked like her--dead and gone in an instant, in Judy’s place. She was happy to be alive, but she mourned the life that was lost, even if she had never known the girl. 

There was no getting out of this room, and Judy wasn’t reckless enough to try incapacitating her ursine attendant in order to escape. Physically, she was likely to be at a significant disadvantage when next to any of the other mammals in the Underworld. 

Benjamin came again on day three. Judy had been prepared to ignore him the moment she picked up the sound of his paws padding on the marble floor of the corridor, but his intentions were different this time. 

The cheetah eased the door open, stepping inside the chamber almost shyly. Judy didn’t bother to lift her head from where it had fused to the mattress of the bed in the corner of the room. 

“Good morning,” Benjamin called softly. 

Was it? There were no windows in the Underworld, naturally, and while she was used to being underground, Judy was never quite sure of the time of day since she arrived. 

Benjamin sighed, a soft whine accompanying the breath. “The boss wants to see you.”

That had Judy’s ears upright and her body following. “The boss?”

“Nick, silly! He asked for you.”

“I wasn’t confused about who it was,” she grumbled, any respect she’d once afforded him gone. “Just surprised that he wants to see me.”

“Well, he does, and we’re to go now. Ready?”

No. She was not. Her initial shock gave way to dread as the impact of the statement landed. “Do I have a choice?”

Laughter was her only answer. Judy stood, smoothed her gown, and followed her escort out of the chamber. Benjamin babbled contentedly as they walked. Once again, Judy was struck by the oddity of not passing a single other mammal in the halls. Her companion’s rapid chatter left little room for her to ask about it, and he was either oblivious to Judy’s discomfort or making a misguided attempt to ease it. She largely tuned him out, turning her attention inward to the accelerating pace of her heart in a vain effort to control it. 

She was immortal in the sense that she would live forever--or long enough to feel that way--barring serious maiming. The wrath of a god could easily lead to serious maiming.

Too soon they arrived at a door. It was stone, like all the others, but a small wooden engraving of an inverted fern leaf hung at what would be about eye level for taller mammals. 

“Here we are,” Benjamin announced. He knocked on the door once, and opened it without waiting for a response. Judy willed her reluctant legs to follow him inside the room.

Nick sat behind a large desk on the other side of what looked like an office, a spacious square room with bookshelves lining three walls. The fox didn’t look up as they entered. 

“Here she is, boss. Need anything else?”

“Thank you, Clawhauser. That’s it for now.” 

Judy grimaced as the cheetah gave her an encouraging gesture and a smile. He closed the door behind him, and she was alone with one of the three most powerful gods in existence. 

She stood, eyes fixed on the fox as he continued to scratch words onto a scroll of parchment, ignoring her. He looked...the same. No missing limbs, no deformations, not a piece of red fur out of place--whatever Moos and Hayra had thought of his game at the harvest celebration, he seemingly hadn’t been punished too severely. 

Minutes ticked by, enough time for Judy’s heart to slow to a more natural, albeit still rapid, rate. 

More minutes passed, enough for her to grow aggravated. She cleared her throat. “My lord?” 

“What is it, Fluff?”

A foot thumped in irritation. “You asked for me?”

Nick dropped his quill, and leaned back in his chair. The wooden desk had been made for a much larger mammal than a fox, and under different circumstances Judy might have found the image of him dwarfed by the furniture to be an amusing one. 

“You’re free to roam,” he said, finally looking at her. 

Quickly she dropped her eyes from his. “I’d like to go home, my lord. Or get a message to my mother.”

“We’d both like that, but I can’t let you do so just yet. Instead you have permission to wander where you’d like, with an escort. Clawhauser has already volunteered, but I can also get someone else.”

Judy considered this for a moment. Evidently nobody had plans to kill her outright, at least for the moment, and Nick had tried to prevent her from being caught at the party. “Why am I here?” she blurted, looking up at him again. 

Nick tugged at the collar of his tunic. “My brother wants you here.”

“But you do not.”

“Definitely not.”

“But why does he want me here?”

“He wants a lot of irrational things. All I know is that he’s very adamant that you remain here.”

“But I’m free to roam.”

“Within reason.”

“Why?”

“Oh for--look, Fluff, I’m not interested in being a warden or a kitsitter. You’re stuck here, and I’m stuck dealing with you. Go where you want, just stay out of trouble.”

Nick’s emerald eyes glinted with annoyance. Judy shrank from his stare. But still she asked, “Who was that girl? At the party? The one who died.”

“Nobody.”

“I want to know who died for me--”

“ _ Nobody _ . It was a hoax, a vessel made to look like you. I had you wander through the party to put your scent there, as that’s the hardest piece to mimic, and I was unfamiliar with it. Then you were supposed to stay out of sight. The doppelganger would pass as you, and you would be free to go, at least until I figured out a more permanent solution. It’s not like my brother or his wife visit the Underworld or your podunk corner of the mortal realm all too often.”

A wave of relief washed over Judy at this news. Her grief had been wasted. And yet, she still had more questions than answers. “I still do not understand why I was invited to the party, or to the Underworld, in the first place. Or why nobody has contacted my mother,” she said. At a dark glare from the fox she scrambled to add, “My lord.”

“Your mother is the least of my concerns right now.”

“Well she’s a significant concern of mine,” Judy snapped, her deference already forgotten.

Nick only smirked at her. “And I’m sure she misses you. Actually, I’m counting on that.”

Judy furrowed her brow. Of course her mother missed her. She was probably near out of her mind with worry by now--but that wouldn’t benefit Nick in any way, would it?

“If I could just send a message to her, at least let her know I’m alright…”

“Not an option.”

Judy’s ears drooped, the weight of her emotional exhaustion pulling them down. She took another glance around the room. It was devoid of personality or comfort, and besides the desk and bookshelves, only a tray with the remains of a meal occupied the space. Her gaze lingered a moment, and she couldn’t help but wonder if meat had been part of the dish. 

Nick leaned forward slightly to examine Judy. “Are you hungry?” he asked. 

Despite having not eaten in over three days, she realized she was not. “No, my lord.”

He sat back. “Good. Let Clawhauser or I know the moment that changes.”

“Y-yes, my lord.”

“Now I suggest you take your leave. I’m busy, and time is money. Or rather souls, in this case.”

Nick turned back to his work, dismissing her. Judy left without saying anything further, only to meet Benjamin in the hallway. 

“So, you want to do something?” he asked. A bright smile was on his muzzle. “There’s a garden that I thought you might like, and--”

“No, Benjamin. Just take me back to my room.”

The cheetah’s ears flattened. “Sure thing. Maybe tomorrow.” 

“Maybe.”

Judy declined the offers of exploration the next day, and the following. She remained in her room, her mind listlessly mulling over her predicament. She’d lived a sheltered life, surrounded by her parents and hundreds of nymphs. She knew she was inexperienced and naive, and she wanted more freedom, yes--but she still loved her home. The mortal realm was lively and warm. The cold sterility of the Underworld, and being cut off from everyone she’d ever known, was enough to envelop her in despondency.

Hatred started to creep into her mind. She might have thought she was incapable of it, having never had a reason to hate anyone before. Nick had saved her once, but then what? He was evidently content to let her wallow and waste away in this room. He hadn’t bothered to let her speak to her mother and had not pushed harder against his brother’s orders.

And her mother--surely she was searching. Bonnie had ties to Zoolympus, but chose to avoid it most of the time. Despite that, she would have asked the gods and goddesses what they knew, and if Judy was still here, then she could only assume nobody was willing to tell her mother. 

On the sixth day, Judy left her room with Benjamin. It was a short tour, through the lonely corridors and to the garden he’d mentioned. It was a fine plot, but lacked the vibrancy of the fields of her home. Even the rows of plants were too rigid, too perfect. Unnatural.

The next two days were the same, with Judy listening to Benjamin prattling on as he showed her what he called the best of the Underworld. Once, they were near an entrance, and Judy had stood in awe of a giant fern dripping with dreams under each leaf. They’d seen several rivers, each with their own intriguing aura, but Benjamin had been loath to get too close and had steered her away quickly. He was a good companion, she eventually had to admit, and his buoyancy did have an effect on her own spirits. It made her a little sad, though, to think of such a cheerful mammal stuck serving in a place like this. 

He was also her only companion, since the scarce few mammals they passed did not deign to speak to her, scurrying past with heads bowed to continue with their own tasks. 

By the ninth day, Judy knew well enough her way around, but had still to discover an exit that wasn’t guarded heavily. They stood near a garden that morning, and Benjamin stopped a passing attendant with a tray of pastries to swipe several into his paw. A smile tugged at Judy’s muzzle as he devoured them nearly whole, large chunks of the sweets landing in his neck fur. 

“Benjamin, can we do something new today? What about the rivers, can we look at them again?”

“Mmmnnff...Nmmfk whhmmd fnay nm.”

“Sorry?”

The cheetah finished the last of his sweet, and licked the residual icing from his claws. “Nick would say no. It’s too dangerous.”

“I have you,” she pressed. “And I’m not entirely helpless. I just want to look.”

Benjamin sighed, but relented, as Judy suspected he would. “Fine, but just for a minute. I don’t want to get in trouble with the boss.”

Judy bounced on her toes a bit, reaching up to deliver a soft jab to Benjamin’s soft arm. “You’re the best.”

The river’s aura had been fascinating from a distance. As they approached, however, Judy regretted her decision to come here. She had hoped that she could slip away from Benjamin long enough to meet the ferryman, a mammal she had heard tales of called Bearon. There were many entrances to the Underworld from the mortal realm, the tales said, and if Bearon knew them all, then he was a potential ticket to Judy’s escape. 

“I--I think this is far enough. It’s not much to look at anyways, sort of depressing if you ask me,” Benjamin broke into her thoughts.

Judy glanced at her escort. His pupils were wide and his claws flexed with unease. Her own nose twitched as she took in the sight of the river. “It is...intimidating,” she agreed.

The smooth marble that made up most of the Underworld gave way along the river to jagged slate that was slick with moisture under their feet. On the other side of the water a cliffside rose, continuing above their heads into darkness and out of sight. It was darker here than elsewhere, but a faint luminescence hovered above the smooth surface of the water. The air was thick with a salty tang, and a low keening occasionally reached Judy’s ears. It was soft like the lapping of a stream on the shore, but mournful, and easy to miss without her excellent hearing. 

There was no sign of Bearon, or his vessel. Judy craned her neck in both directions from where they stood past the riverbank, trying to catch a glimpse of a figure. 

“Whatcha looking for?” Benjamin asked.

Judy looked up at him, surprised. He was more perceptive than she had given him credit for. She wasn’t entirely sure what his role for Nick even was. Perhaps she had underestimated him entirely. “I’m just curious, that’s all.”

“You should leave that to us cats,” Benjamin giggled. 

Judy smiled, and turned back to watch the river again. Her eyes snagged on a pale figure far down the shore to her left. 

She squinted, willing her poor eyes to cooperate. “Who are they?” She could see now that it was a crowd of mammals, or rather a line.

“Oh, those are the newcomers. Just waiting to be processed,” Benjamin told her.

“Processed?”

“To see where they end up in the Underworld. It all depends on what kind of life they lived in the mortal realm.”

“Who decides that? Nick?”

“No, no. There are judges. They read the ledger of each life and send them to the right sector.”

He had hardly finished his explanation before Judy bounded away towards the specters. Benjamin followed, his heavy footsteps falling farther and farther behind Judy as she reached the line. 

She drew close to the nearest mammal, a medium canid of some kind that she had never seen before. His image wavered, and he did not acknowledge her. She could see, however, that he was restless. His tail flicked sharply, and his ears pinned but twitched occasionally. His teeth flashed once in a silent growl. Looking at the line of mammal souls waiting to be processed, it was easy to spot the agitation amongst them. The line hardly looked to be moving. 

Judy ran ahead, trying to find the beginning of the line. It seemed for a moment that it would never end as it curved inward away from the river, and her legs were starting to tire by the time she had passed the queue of mammals on the shore.

When she finally reached the judges, she lurched to a stop. 

“They’re all sloths?!”

Judy burst into the office, startling the fox. His nose lifted and his muzzle wrinkled with annoyance as he realized who had arrived. Her fists balled at her side, and she approached the desk to slam her paws onto it. Her breathing was fast and ragged. She’d run here, infuriated by the scene near the river. 

“Why are the souls not being processed more quickly?”

Nick blew a sigh through his nose, and handed the parchment in his paws downward. Judy leaned sideways to spy the smallest fox with the biggest ears she’d ever seen looking up at her with a smirk.

“Oh, uh, hello there,” she said.

“We’re done here. Let me know if there are any issues,” Nick interjected, dismissing the other fox before he could respond to Judy. She watched as his small form tottered out of the office, and only turned to face Nick again when the door closed behind him.

“I’m busy,” Nick told her.

She straightened, her hands on her hips. “Why are the souls not being let in faster?”

“They’re dead, Carrots. They have nowhere else to be. There’s no rush.”

“Just because they’re dead doesn’t mean you shouldn’t treat them well.”

“Who says I don’t treat them well? How do you even know about this?”

“Benjamin took me to the river. I saw the line, and the judges. The line just gets bigger and bigger--some mammals have been for waiting years! Don’t you think it’s false advertising? Mortals think they’re coming to their resting place, not a glorified waiting room.”

“So you want me to, what, ask the judges nicely to speed up?”

“As a start, yes.”

“You’re quite bold, Fluff. Barging into my office, making demands.”

“Am I a prisoner?” she asked.

Nick seemed to start at that. “Well, I wouldn’t want to use that word…”

“Then as a guest, I have some suggestions. Those mammals deserve better. They’re here to be at peace, not wait in line for eternity.”

“What makes you think I have any control over this?”

“You’re Lord of the Underworld! You have control over everything here.”

Nick waved a paw, apathetic to her pleas. “This is just the way things have always been done.”

“But you can change it.”

“No, Carrots, I cannot. It was like this before I got here, and it will be like this for a long while after I’m gone. You can’t get everything you want. Don’t be so naive.”

Judy seethed. She truly did hate this fox, with his arrogance and his unwillingness to do things for other mammals. Even saving her had been about him. “You haven’t even tried to do anything better, have you? Probably not for your entire life,” she declared. 

Nick’s heavy lidded eyes blinked at her. Judy huffed--he was enjoying seeing her get riled up. “You can only be what you are. Sly fox, dumb bunny.”

“I am not a dumb bunny.”

“Sure thing, Carrots.”

Fox and bunny both turned as Benjamin nearly fell through the door, doubled over and gasping for air. “Sorry boss. I tried to catch her, but she’s slippery,” he wheezed. Judy rolled her eyes. “I gotta go sit down,” Benjamin finished. He turned into the hall and padded away. 

Nick studied Judy for a moment. Her ears turned hot under his gaze--she wished he would stop looking at her so intently. It made her feel hunted. 

“Fine. I will see if we can review the process and perhaps move things along,” he said after a long silence.

Judy blinked. “Really?”

Nick only shrugged. “I make no promises.”

A broad smile rose on Judy’s muzzle, and her anger dissipated--to an extent. “Thank you, my lord.” She hesitated on the other side of the desk, still smiling at Nick.

“Anything else, Carrots?”

She snapped back to herself. “No, that is all. I’ll leave you now.” She spun, and hopped quickly back to her room. 

\------------------

“Hecat, where are you taking me?” Bonnie asked for what she felt was the dozenth time in the past day. They’d been heading steadily east, and they were already far past the lands Bonnie was familiar with. 

“Almost there, not to worry,” the polecat replied. Her voice was thin. They’d ascended a slope all night, and with dawn about to break, both goddesses were growing tired. 

Within the hour, land ceased. The still dark sky rose around them, and they stood looking at the end of the earth.

“Finally,” Hecat muttered. 

“Wh--”

Hecat cut Bonnie off with a wave and a shouted greeting. Bonnie followed where her friend was looking, and squinted enough to make out a large figure. They approached, and the clearer form of a golden-maned stallion came into view. 

“Equios, it’s been a while,” Hecat said.

Equios heaved a sigh that suggested the visit was a burden. “What do you want?”

“Always right to the point with you, isn’t it?”

“I have to get to work,” the stallion snapped. “What is it?”

“My friend here is missing a daughter. Did you see anything strange around the Burrows? Nine days ago?”

“No idea.”

“You see everything, Equios. Don’t play dumb with me,” Hecat warned. Bonnie’s ears twitched at the tone--there was a sharpness there that usually preceded whoever was on the receiving end of it regretting their most recent choices. 

“Nine days ago, Burrows...there was a fellow. Talking to a grey bunny.” Equious did indeed see everything, and had witnessed the result of that tone enough times to acquiesce.

“That’s Judy,” Bonnie breathed. Finally, they had a lead. 

“What kind of fellow was it?” Hecat asked.

“A cat of some kind. A spotty one.”

“Gods, you’re useless sometimes, you know that?” Hecat sighed. The stallion only tossed his head. “There are lots of spotty cats. Anything more specific?”

“Was kind of chubby. Had an invitation to go down south.”

“A cheetah?”

Equios shrugged. “Sure.”

Hecat scrubbed a paw over her face, pondering this for a moment. “Any thoughts?” Bonnie asked. She was anxious to figure this out, and hated needing to rely on her friend for ideas. But it had been too long since she’d visited Zoolympus, and she tried not to form too many ties with the other Zoolympians, no matter from what realm. Judy was safer that way. 

The polecat looked at her, eyes wide with shock as something occurred to her. “Bon...it’s the Underworld.” She turned to the stallion. “There’s got to be more. What else do you know?”

“Not my place to say.”

Bonnie stepped back as a flaming torch appeared in Hecat’s grasp. The goddess leveled it at Equios’ neck. “Make it your place.”

He waved a hand to get Hecat to lower the torch. His swishing tail was the only sign that he was at all perturbed. “The new Lord needed a wife. Guess your bunny drew the short wheat sheaf.”

“Excuse me?” Bonnie asked. Her daughter was not only in the Underworld--had been there for  _ days _ \--but was betrothed to a manipulative god? 

Equios shrugged again. “I’ve heard he secretly isn’t all that bad. Maybe it’ll be a good match.”

The land erupted. Tree roots burst from fissures in the ground. Vines of flowers and thorns wound themselves around tree trunks and slithered to a halt at the feet of the immortals. Hecat peered at Bonnie with alarm, but no small amount of delight. The vines and foliage quivered, held back only by their goddess’ dwindling restraint.

“That’s my cue,” Equios said. He unfurled his wings and ascended, the sky obediently growing lighter in his wake. 

“Ooh, fun. Save some of that for the Underworld, Bon,” Hecat cooed.

The doe’s frame shook with barely contained rage. “Let’s go.”


	3. Chapter 3

Nick was prepared for this meeting. The last had not gone well, after his stunt at the harvest party. But apparently his brother felt that a continuation of his duties was punishment enough. Today he would speak to Moos, plead his case as rationally as possible, and things would be resolved. 

It was in the best interest of everyone, in every realm, that the bunny go home. 

In weeks, the influx of mortal souls had increased dramatically. After the bunny’s outburst, he had quietly had some staff reevaluate the judging process, and some revisions had been made. Still, even the new admissions system was barely keeping up, and staff were struggling to keep the souls from roaming wildly before being assigned to a sector. He’d resorted to calling on a few nymphs for reinforcement, something he avoided doing if at all possible, but that seemed to be creating more problems than solutions.

At the moment, Nick was standing on a precipice that offered a view of the river to watch a particularly flustered tiger race after the essence of a hippo. The hippo could move much faster in this life than the previous. To his credit, the tiger caught up a few times. But the tricky thing about souls was their lack of substance. It made them hard to wrangle, on the rare occasion they decided to do something other than sulk.

The air crackled just as the tiger leaped for the hippo and missed--again. “Well, this is a show,” Moos observed. 

“It’s chaos.”

“You did not call me down here to assist with your soul problem, I hope.”

“No, I called you down here to tell you to take the rabbit back with you. This is getting entirely out of paw.”

The bull let out an undignified groan. “I am going to tell Furmes to stop delivering any of your messages if all you plan to do is harass me about this.”

Nick turned to face Moos, his ears pinned. “Tell me what’s going on up there. I have mortals coming in at a record rate, half of them starved. It started less than a fortnight after your pretentious sham of a party, and I know it relates to the rabbit somehow.”

Moos eyed the fox, and Nick expected a firm dismissal. But the bull relented. “Have you ever met her mother, Bonnie?”

“Can’t say I have.”

“Well, she’s a fierce one. Appeared on Zoolympus for the first time in decades a few weeks ago and stormed right up to me. Haven’t seen her that mad since...way back. Those buck teeth can be surprisingly intimidating.” Nick believed it, recalling his own encounter with the younger rabbit. It had been almost amusing to see her in all of her tiny lagomorphic fury. “Hecat was with her,” Moos continued, “and just as irate. As I recall, the two of you are well acquainted.”

Nick’s tail instinctively twitched as he nodded. It had taken nearly a year for the fur there to grow back after his last encounter with the polecat. 

“In any case, Bonnie demanded that her daughter be sent home immediately. I said no, and told her to watch her tone--”

“I’m sure she took that well.”

A heavy sigh answered. “She threatened to keep the earth barren until her daughter is returned.”

Nick’s jaw went slack. The bunny had been right to be concerned about her mother. “You thought she was bluffing.”

“At first. Sadly, she was not. Nothing will grow, and famine is spreading. Every god and goddess I can think of has been sent to the mortal realm to reason with her--the mortals even built a new temple--but she’s adamant that the only thing that will lift the plague is her daughter coming home.”

“Sounds to me like an excellent reason to  _ send her back _ .”

“You are not the only one who takes orders, you know,” the king snapped. 

Moos turned, starting the walk down the path back to Nick’s office. Nick mulled over what he had been told. One detail struck him as odd. 

“If Hecat is invested in the bunny’s return, why has she not come herself?” he asked. “She has unrestricted access to the Underworld.”

Moos waved a hoof. “Not anymore. I barred them both from coming down.”

“You  _ what _ ? No wonder the rabbit nearly went savage on you.”

Moos had no response. Their footsteps echoed around them as they descended, and Nick spoke again when they reached the residential complex. “You’re really just going to let the mortals die? For a bunny that doesn’t want to be here and that I don’t want here? There’s no other solution.”

“Bonnie is primarily upset because she does not think you are a suitable partner for her daughter.”

“She would be correct.”

“Become a suitable partner, and this problem resolves itself. I can help with that.”

Nick huffed a laugh. “Excuse me if I don’t want relationship advice from the biggest tail chaser in the three realms. Besides, the time to wingmammal me would have been  _ before  _ kidnapping the rabbit.”

“Minor details.”

Nick scoffed. They’d arrived at the office, and he opened the door, offering a mocking bow to direct the king in first. The bull was behind the desk in a moment, his back hooves propped on the edge and a forehoof picking through the tray of pastries that had been left there. His nose wrinkled in distaste as he selected a rather plain biscuit. “Can’t you get any better food around here?”

“Clawhauser swipes the good ones on their way here.”

“Hmm. I would’ve bucked him off Zoolympus by now. But about your bunny--”

“She is not  _ my bunny _ \--”

“--Does she like it here? Have you even bothered to speak with her?”

“Nobody  _ likes  _ it here! She’s miserable. A fox showing up at her door isn’t going to improve her mood.”

“You won’t know if you don’t try,” came Moos’ haughty reply. 

Nick scrubbed a paw over his face. “I wish mammals would stop telling me to try,” he muttered. 

“Look. I need this situation resolved, and I need you and that rabbit getting along. I’ll push the ceremony for now--no point in having one without a feast--but fluff your tail, talk to her, and do whatever else you need to do so that I can show her mother that you’re not going to eat her kit and the trees can be allowed to grow leaves again. Am I clear?”

Nick clenched his teeth. Never had he resented his brother as much as in this moment. “Transparent,” he ground out. 

“Good. And I would refrain from trying to pull another trick like at the party--I showed clemency once, but Hayra will have your hide if something else goes wrong. And do not expect me to intervene.”

\-------------------------------

The knock startled Judy from her late morning nap. She had never had so much time to rest when she was at home. At first the free time had not been so bad, but now that she was tired of brooding she was just becoming lethargic. 

Benjamin had already seen her today, and besides, he rarely knocked anymore. Possibly an attendant?

She opened her chamber door and looked up, expecting to see a larger mammal. That space was empty, and she directed her gaze down to see the small, large-eared fox that had been in Nick’s office days ago. 

“Hello again,” she said.

“Nick wants to see you.” The fox turned away, already stepping down the hall. Judy blinked before hopping to catch up. The voice that came from the small mammal was absurdly deep. 

“What does he want me for?”

“Dunno.”

“Oh, alright.” They walked through the complex, and Judy was careful to match her strides to the small fox’s pace. Soon enough she recognized where they were heading. 

Nick and this fox were the only two vulpine mammals Judy had seen in the Underworld, despite the large predator population. She tried again for conversation. “Are you, uh, his son?”

The fox stopped and faced Judy. “Do I look like a damn baby to you?”

Judy’s nose twitched. “No. No, I suppose not.”

She didn’t make a habit of praying to the gods, but Judy was tempted to start as they trekked in silence the rest of the way to the riverbed. As they descended the slope winding to the slate shore, she did not allow herself to glance about for Bearon. From questioning Benjamin, she had learned that payment was needed to cross the river on Bearon’s vessel, and that it was generally a one way trip into the Underworld. Getting out was significantly more challenging. She needed a new idea for getting home.

They were on the riverbed now, and souls were everywhere. Whatever order had once existed was gone, and immortals wound between the specters, trying to corral them back into a queue. Nick was leaning against a boulder, away from the fray. His head was propped in a paw, but he looked unfazed as he watched the crowd. 

“Delivery for you,” Judy’s companion stated. She was deposited before the Lord of the Underworld, and the smaller fox tottered off. Nick chuckled softly.

“My lord,” Judy greeted. “You wanted to see me?”

“Enough with the titles, Carrots. Nick is fine.”

Judy shifted, and turned her attention to the chaos happening not far in front of her. “Your...assistant...didn’t mention what you wanted to speak with me about. He doesn’t seem to be one for talking much.”

“Finnick? You eventually get used to him. He will inevitably threaten to bite your face off, but he’s all bark.”

“What’s going on here?” Judy asked, nodding at the crowd.

Nick pushed off the boulder. “How are you finding it here so far?”

Her frustration welled at not having her questions answered. “Apart from the fact I was brought here against my will?”

“Funny enough, most mammals have the same complaint when they get here.”

Judy sighed. “I just want to go home.” 

Something unidentifiable passed over Nick’s face, but he quickly smoothed his muzzle back into what Judy was coming to recognize as his signature smirk. “Clawhauser tells me you’re bored. How about a job?”

“What?”

“If you want something to do, I have things that need doing.”

Judy’s ears perked up. Perhaps if she worked here she would meet someone who knew how to get to the mortal realm--better yet, they might be sympathetic and willing to help her leave. Surely not everyone in the Underworld was completely loyal to their lord. 

“What kind of things? Benjamin already mentioned that I could tend the gardens, but I’ve done enough of that for several lifetimes.”

“Nothing like that,” Nick said. He gestured for her to follow him, and they wound their way towards the judging stations. “I had someone take a look at where we could increase efficiency in admissions, after your little outburst,” he told her. “But we’re still dealing with more new souls than we have paws to handle, plus the original backlog. As you saw, they’re getting unruly. That sometimes happens when mortals are especially upset by their own death.”

“You mean if it was before their time?”

“Sure. Any number of things can do it.”

“What’s the problem now?”

Nick met Judy’s gaze out of the corner of his eye before pushing through a door, past the judges’ desk. Again, no answer. Fine. She hadn’t expected a response. “Here,” he said. “This is where I want you stationed.”

Judy followed him into a large room to see dozens of mammals bent over desks piled high with scrolls. Many were sloths, unravelling the parchments with aching slowness as she watched. Others were all kinds of predators, working frantically through their own paperwork. None looked up at Nick’s entry, and Judy was surprised by the lack of deference. But then, he had asked her to call him by name. 

“What are they working on?”

“Reviewing records. When a mammal’s soul enters the Underworld, a record of their life is created. That gets reviewed, and a recommendation is made for which sector they should ultimately end up in.”

“So what do the judges do, then?”

“They still make the final decision, but they hear each mammal’s case first. This review process is actually the new part--before it was the judges doing all of this, and it took much longer.”

“I’m impressed,” Judy admitted. “So what do you want me to do?”

“For now, learn the system, and lend a paw. If you want to keep an eye out for any other areas that can be improved...that’s fine, too.”

Despite her desire to leave the Underworld entirely, Judy grinned. She had never been given such a large responsibility before. This would be tedious, but she was going to do it better than any other mammal here. 

“I’ll leave you to it, then?” Nick asked. Judy nodded, and he waved over a snow leopard. “Help her get oriented with the system, please,” he instructed. “And Carrots, come by my office at the end of the day.”

“I will,” she assured. 

At first the process was more drudging than she had even imagined, but it didn’t take long before Judy had a grasp of the basic rules. There were four potential resting places for souls. She quickly realized that there were easy telltale signs to indicate where a soul should most likely end up. Pining after an unrequited love, obvious heroism, or being a demigod were some of the clearest deciding factors, and she could write her recommendation to the judges in minutes. Some ledgers required more reading than others, and those were the ones Judy was most interested in. It was intriguing to read about the adventures of these mortals--certainly most had lived more than she ever had. 

By her count, Judy had cleared nearly two hundred scrolls when Growley tapped her shoulder after several hours. The room had quieted, and only a few mammals remained at their stations. Even immortals required some rest, and she felt a strain in her own wrist that she was sure the other workers were familiar with. 

“You should probably go see the lord,” the leopard whispered. “Do you need me to show you the way back?”

“No thank you, I can find my way. See you tomorrow?” The more friends she had here, the closer Judy was to finding a way home.

The cat smiled down at her. “I’ll be here.”

Judy took her time tracing the path back to Nick’s office. The crowd of souls was still not under control, and without Nick at her side as a buffer, she had to maneuver away from the legs of larger mammals who were oblivious to her presence. From what she could see, it was a different set of staff. Evidently corralling the souls was a round the clock necessity. 

As she walked, her thoughts turned to her encounters with Nick. He was powerful, but she had yet to see him use any of his ability. He was supposed to be fearsome, but so far he had seemed mostly sarcastic. The Underworld staff showed no aversion to him, and in fact were almost casual in the interactions Judy had witnessed so far. 

Then there was the matter of this job. It wasn’t as preferable as going home, but it felt good to have a purpose again, even temporarily. More than that, when Judy had brought her concerns to Nick, he had listened to them, had even implemented changes. She wasn’t so naive that she believed her opinion held any real value for him--so long as it was sound, the idea could have come from anyone--but the feeling of  _ accomplishment  _ when he had told her he would look into her suggestion had been intoxicating. 

Her mother told her often how important their job was in the mortal realm, and she knew that it was. But Judy had never felt she was really contributing there, and she was always in the shadow of the more powerful goddess. Her mother assured her that she was just young, and needed time to develop. Judy argued that development was difficult to achieve without travelling, or learning from other gods and goddesses, or trying things in a new way. Most of it fell on deaf ears. Being heard--that was what Judy had appreciated following her outburst in front of the fox, and that was what had put the first smile on her face since arriving in the Underworld. 

A ghost of that same smile tugged at her cheeks as she walked, but it was erased from her muzzle when Judy was knocked backward onto the stone floor. She sat up quickly to meet the narrow eyes of an ocelot sneering down at her. 

“Oops. Maybe you should pay attention when you’re strolling around here. Not everyone is as friendly as me.”

Judy studied the feline, who was offering a decidedly unfriendly smile. Her immortal aura was dim, but Judy recognized her as a nymph of some kind. She stood slowly and held out a paw. “Sorry about that. I guess I was daydreaming. I’m Judy.”

The ocelot ignored the outstretched paw, and Judy dropped her arm to her side. “Hard not to know who you are. Do you see a lot of other bunnies around here?” the nymph said.

Judy’s ears dropped with discomfort. She forced a small laugh. “I guess it must be a bit unusual.”

“The only unusual thing is you still being here. Didn’t want to go home to mama, was that it?”

“Excuse me? I--”

“You started this mess, you know.”

“What mess?”

The ocelot continued over her. “Bet you didn’t even think about anyone when you skipped down here with that cute little tail. Didn’t consider how stressful it would be for Nick.”

Judy leaned toward the ocelot, her ears heating with indignation. “ _ I _ didn’t skip anywhere! You think this is stressful for  _ Nick _ , well--”

“Listen, bunny. I don’t like you, and I want you gone. When that happens, everything down there goes back to normal, and you can carry on with your pathetic carrot farming excuse for a life.”

“How does me leaving have anything to do with the extra souls?”

“Nobody told you? Mommy threw a bit of a tantrum when you decided to have your little rebellion.”

Judy’s eyes widened. She pushed past the nymph, and ignored the laughter that followed her as she raced the rest of the distance to the office. 

\-------------------------------

“Come in,” Nick called. The knocking was new. Maybe the rabbit was learning manners. 

He looked up as she entered, and his grip on his quill tightened. Either the bunny had serious issues with her new job, or she had heard something she shouldn’t have, if the downright predatory look on her face was any indication.

“Hey, Carrots. How was your first day?”

“Don’t ‘Carrots’ me, you  _ liar _ .”

Nick leaned back in his chair. He crossed his arms, as though that might stifle the frantic heartbeat beneath them. “What makes you think I’m a liar?”

“Oh gee, I don’t know, maybe the fact that you neglected to tell me my mother was losing her mind over me being gone? That’s why so many mortals are dying, right?”

“Nice work, detective. Or did somebody say something..?” Nick needed to know who she had spoken to--everyone had been instructed to avoid discussing it with the rabbit.

“ _ You _ should have said something. Instead you lied to me.”

“Did I lie? I don’t recall saying your mother was  _ not  _ upset.”

Judy advanced on him, bracing her paws on the desk to lean forward. “You think you’re pretty slick, don’t you?”

Nick held her blazing violet gaze for a moment before clicking two claws together. A chair appeared behind Judy, and he gestured for her to take a seat. She did, but her face remained scrunched up with anger. 

“Do you want to hear it?” he asked. 

Judy waved a paw, and he took it as assent. “Yes, your mother is, in a way, responsible for the current overcrowding. She is refusing to permit the earth to grow anything until you come home, and a lot of mammals are starving.”

The rabbit’s face crumpled at this confirmation. She dropped her head into her paws. “Oh, no, mom…” she moaned. Nick recalled how she reacted when she thought his hoax, the doppelganger, had died. If she’d responded that way to a single bunny, she would be undoubtedly distraught about the growing hundreds of recently lost lives. 

Nick continued, ignoring the guilt that lanced through him. “Despite that, I still can’t let you go back.” The bunny snapped her head up and opened her mouth to argue. Nick cut her off. “Not because I don’t want to. I have tried to reason with my brother, and he has been in contact with Bonnie to try and smooth things over.”

“So you just expect me to trust that you are handling it on my behalf?”

Nick snorted. “I don’t expect anything like trust from you, Carrots. But I am working on it. Next time Furmes comes down, I’ll let you know, and he can take a message for you.”

The bunny’s ears straightened at that. “Really?”

“Really. Now, how was your first day?”

The bunny held his gaze for a long moment, as if searching for any sign of a trick. Apparently, he was deemed sincere, and she nodded once. Her eyes were still dark with unease, but she told him, “I got through a couple hundred scrolls. There are a few areas where I think some small changes might be valuable, though.”

Nick was impressed, despite himself. He unwound his arms to lean forward slightly. “What changes?”

“Well, Growley explained that the judges have a series of questions for each soul when they reach the bench. But they are still  _ so  _ slow--it would be faster to have an earlier checkpoint where the standard questions are already answered by each incoming soul. Then, funnel that information into a system that can be integrated with the ledgers that get pulled from the archives. That way we only have to read one document, and the judges get all the information they need at a glance. They must be able to read faster than they speak.”

“They do. That’s not a bad idea. Anything else?”

“Well, the flow of the workroom…”

Nick had never given much thought to the process of how things were done in the Underworld. He had been content to inherit the system as it was, and had not bothered to learn more than absolutely necessary to do his job. The bunny had amassed nearly as much knowledge as him in just half a day, and her ideas for improvement were overwhelmingly good. 

The rabbit finished, and he nodded his understanding. She looked slightly better now. Still tired and upset, and certainly she still hated him, but talking about the issues she had uncovered in the soul processing department seemed to have brought a brightness back to her. 

“This all sounds good, Carrots. You can do the same thing tomorrow. But there are some other areas that I might get your opinion on later. You seem to have a head for these things.”

“When you grow up with hundreds of nymphs around, you pick up a thing or two about mammal management.”

“I bet. Maybe you’ll be a supervisor one day.”

The bunny rolled her eyes, but it was without any real malice. She slipped down from the chair. “Do you need me for anything else, my lord?” 

“Not now. Go get some rest.”

She hesitated. Buck teeth nibbled at her lower lip. “What is it?” Nick asked. 

“I was just curious...my mother never let me visit Zoolympus, and I haven’t heard all that much about the other gods, really...but is Moos really your brother?”

Not the question the fox had expected. “In the sense that all the Zoolympians are related,” he told her. “It’s complicated.”

“Ah.” She paused, then declared, “He’s a bit of a jerk. I see the family resemblance.”

Nick slapped a paw to his chest with an exaggerated gasp. “That really stings, Fluff.” He hoped the mocking reaction hid the flash of alarm that had passed through him at her comment. 

The rabbit smiled, then grew more serious. “Thank you for the job,” she said.

That had also been unexpected. “Hard for me to say no to free labour,” the fox muttered. 

She frowned slightly, then turned away. The door had barely closed behind the doe before a helm was tossed onto the desk in front of Nick with a clatter.

“That thing cannot feel good on your ears,” Moos said, appearing once more. He had spent the conversation lurking in the corner. 

Nick rolled his eyes as he placed the helm back in its drawer. Moos had discovered the item earlier, and had found it endlessly amusing. “It’s a good thing I don’t need to use it much. Why are you still here?”

“Well, your bunny interrupted our  _ brotherly  _ bonding time. And I wanted to see what she was like.”

“One, not my bunny. Two, you saw. Now get out, you jerk.”

“She called you a jerk, too. She is definitely reckless, insulting a god that way. But you two worked well together. Just what you need in a female.”

“I’m shocked you didn’t smite her right then. And can you relax with the marriage talk? She’s still depressed and wants to go home.”

“I told you to help her feel better, not hire her. Probably should not have promised her a message, either. But if that is enough to work…” the bull shrugged. Nick pressed the heels of his paws into his eyes. “And she’s brazen, too, like her mother. Not a bad quality,” the king added.

Nick’s eyes snapped open and he turned to Moos. “Did you see how much she hates me? You are not going to get what you want out of this.”

“It’s a little spice, that’s all. Hayra can get like that from time to time, and let me tell you--”

“Please, do not.”

“--it’s really not all bad, if you know what I mean.”

The fox groaned loudly, and Moos delighted. The bull laughed, the air snapping as he disappeared.

The top of Nick’s head landed with a dull thud on the desk. He groaned again as an image of angry purple eyes flashed behind his lids. 

None of this was going according to his plan.


	4. Chapter 4

“Fabi, do you know where that last batch of scrolls went? The ones I set aside? I need to double check a few of the repeat souls’ records against their previous incarnations.”

“Huh, I’m not sure. Maybe Priscilla grabbed them already?” 

“I think I would have seen her,” Judy muttered, frustrated at having her work moved. She looked up from her station for the first time in the past hour, and rolled the kinks out of her neck. “I’m going to go look for her,” she told her desk partner. 

She didn’t wait for a response before slipping across the room and into the archives behind the workroom. The library of scrolls was empty, most staff having taken a break around midday. She walked a tour of the shelves to make certain, but neither her scrolls nor anyone who would know where they went was in the archive. 

She backtracked, passing Fabi again to search for the sloth closer to the judge’s bench. It was possible, she had to admit, that Priscilla may have grabbed the scrolls when Judy was too absorbed in her work to notice and had already delivered them to the judges. 

The unruly mass of souls was just as large as it had been every day for the past week. How Bearon was keeping up with transporting them across the river was a mystery. In the workroom, no matter how efficient their process was for evaluating ledgers, it took time, and the line had been long to begin with. Weeks of famine wrought by her mother was sending more souls to the Underworld than Judy fathomed they could ever handle. And what Nick had told her about the souls’ affective state when they arrived was holding true. The first souls she had met had been agitated and impatient, understandably so, but the newest arrivals were furious. They were confused, bitter, and cursed the gods for their untimely fates. 

Judy understood their anger. No matter how much her mother missed her, a feeling Judy shared, she could never condone the lengths Bonnie was going to in the mortal realm. Judy was oblivious to what was happening between her mother and the other gods, but her own recent experiences with the Zoolympians had taught her that they had the capacity to be vindictive and petty. Bonnie chose to avoid Zoolympus as much as possible, but she was still one of them. This incident was proving that. 

When Judy was reunited with her mother--and she would be, that she would make sure of--she was going to have some words for her regarding her treatment of mortals. To preach about their shared duty to those mammals for Judy’s entire life, then behave this way? Judy was livid. In fact, if Furmes arrived soon and Nick was true to his word, her message would be a stern warning to her mother. 

She was still thinking about the composition of such a letter when she passed the judge’s bench with no sign of Priscilla. She tipped her head back in a silent groan, ears flopping down her back.

“Chin up, bunny.”

Judy snapped her head up. The ocelot nymph she had first encountered a few days ago was watching her, a smug grin on her face and one paw braced on her hip. “I’m busy,” Judy said, and brushed past the cat.

“Looking for something?”

Judy rolled her eyes before facing the nymph again. One encounter was enough to know she had no patience for this. She had seen the nymph around since then, usually by the river working crowd control, and had caught enough of the way she spoke to other mammals to decide she did not want to spend more time with her. “Why do you ask? Did you take something?” 

“I would never do such a thing. But, I might be able to help you find whatever it is. I know this place pretty well. We could chat on the way, get to know each other a bit. Since it seems like you will be here for a long, _long_ while.”

“No, thank you.” She was being taunted, and Judy did not have time to spare. Even if her job was temporary and mundane, she was determined to do it well.

The ocelot’s upper lip lifted slightly, enough to show the glint of a canine. When Judy turned her back on her, the nymph made no other attempt to follow. 

It was not too much longer before Judy discovered that the scrolls had indeed been delivered to the judges prematurely. Priscilla apologized profusely--a conversation that took far longer than Judy had patience for--and helped her track down the few that needed to be recalled from the backlog. At that pace, it was well past the end of her shift when Judy made her way back to the residential complex. She felt as though half her day had been wasted, and she had fallen far short of her personal quota for the day. 

She was also late for her meeting with Nick, one he had requested through Finnick early that morning. Her legs carried her quickly to his office, despite the leaden feeling dragging down her body. She was no longer afraid of being smited, but she figured there was little benefit in irritating a god, regardless. 

Her ears picked up familiar voices as she approached the fern-marked door. 

“Clawhauser, I told you to tell her we would under no circumstances be fostering her newest foundling, not invite her and her hounds for a visit!”

“I know, boss. But when was the last time you spoke to Giraffrodite? It’s hard to say no to her. And her voice! She's like an angel!”

Judy suppressed a giggle, but Nick was less amused. “Go back right now and say no, and make sure--”

Judy knocked to spare Benjamin the tongue lashing he was heading for. The door opened from the inside, and Benjamin wrapped her in a quick hug as he squealed at the sight of her. She had not seen much of the cheetah since starting her new position. Apparently he had also returned to his regular duties. 

“Careful you don’t crush her,” Nick said. 

Benjamin released Judy but remained beside her, looking expectantly at his boss. Judy offered a weak smile to Nick. The fox looked as tired as Judy had ever seen him. His eyes were dull and sunken, and his usually well-groomed fur was matted slightly around the neck of his tunic. A flash of pity went through her. Of course he was exhausted. Staff had the luxury of working in shifts, but Judy could imagine the difficulty in finding downtime when you were in charge of an entire realm. “We can do this another time,” she told him.

“Now is fine. Clawhauser, please, take care of the mess you made.”

Benjamin pouted, but Judy nudged his side and reminded him in a whisper, “You’ll get to see that goddess again.” His rounded ears flicked forward at that. He gave no trace of annoyance of being eavesdropped upon. 

“I’ll be on my way, then. See you later, boss. Let Judy have a day off soon. I miss her.” 

Nick rolled his eyes, but the cat was already gone. 

“Really,” Judy started again, “I don’t have much to report. It was a less productive day than usual.”

“That’s fine. I just wanted your thoughts on the changes you proposed. How is the new integrated system working?”

“Well so far. There were a few bumps at the start, but we seem to be getting the rhythm of it now.”

“You’ve done good work this week. You are welcome to take tomorrow off, if you want a break.” 

Judy considered the offer. She had been too busy lately to do much exploring on her own, but a day off could change that. With every mammal in the Underworld working overtime to contain the overflowing souls, few eyes would be on her if she decided to take an unauthorized detour or two. “A break would be nice, thank you. If you don’t mind me saying, it looks like perhaps you could use one, too.”

“I’ve been doing this for ages, Carrots. No breaks necessary.”

“Alright, but try not to overdo it. Even gods need to rest every now and then.”

“I will take that into consideration,” he said. There was a trace of amusement in his words and Judy guessed that he was mocking her at least a little, but she still wasn’t willing to push her boundaries with the fox farther. “The other reason I wanted to see you was to let you know Furmes will be here the day after tomorrow with a delivery. If you have a message ready, I will send it with him then.”

“So soon! That’s perfect, thank you.”

Nick only nodded at the thanks, ready to turn back to his work. “Have a good day off tomorrow. Stay out of trouble.”

“Actually, Nick...I had a question about someone. I’m not sure if you would know who they are…”

“I know everyone.”

“Right, well I ran into a nymph, a water nymph, who seemed pretty upset at my being here.” Nick’s green eyes snapped to hers, and while his face remained impassive, the slightest tightening in his jaw told Judy he was agitated. “I get it, I mean I know my mother is being pretty dramatic, and I don’t want to create any problems with your staff, but…”

“Out with it, Fluff.”

“I was wondering if you might be able to give me advice on how to deal with her? I’m used to nymphs from back home, but they were all so friendly, even the water ones. I have never had to deal with something like this before. I just don’t want to make more trouble here than I already have.”

“This nymph...what did she look like?”

“An ocelot. I didn’t get her name.”

“Pardinthe. I should have guessed that.” The fox rubbed a paw behind one ear. “I’ll talk to her. Try not to worry about it too much. Some mammals around here just don’t get out often, and they start to forget their manners.”

“Oh, you don’t have to, I can speak to her--”

“And say what?”

“I’m sure if I knew more about her, her position, we could come to an understanding.”

“Nymphs around here aren’t like your fluffy friends up top. Stay away from them if you can.”

“I just want--”

“Carrots, I said I would handle it.”

Judy ground her teeth, suddenly ranked by his assertion. “Fine. You do that.” With that, she left Nick in his office.

Gods, she hated being treated like a kit. Just when she was beginning to feel like someone believed she could accomplish something, he had to go turn it around on her. Judy fumed as she stomped back to her chamber and threw herself on her bed. 

She didn’t know how long she laid like that, face smushed into the pillows and feet dangling off the edge of the mattress. Home, here, wherever she went it seemed like nobody thought of her as anything more than a dumb bunny.

A small voice nagged at the back of her mind. She tried pushing it away--she wanted to sulk, had every right to, given her circumstances--but it persisted.

She _had_ asked Nick for his advice. Was she asking for her problems to be solved by someone else? Her mother had always done that for her, and she had thought she hated it. Now it seemed like she may have just transferred the responsibility to someone new. If she really wanted to have independence, would she have dealt with Pardinthe herself, and faced the consequences?

Judy groaned into the fabric. She owed Nick an apology when she saw him next. And she needed to start taking matters into her own paws. 

\--------------------------------

“This all sounds good. Let’s just keep an eye on the structure of the older cells, but for now it looks like they will hold. The mortal cells shouldn’t be a problem for at least another few centuries.”

“Agreed. Though we may need to expand again soon. There’s been a few recent additions.”

Nick frowned at the ocelot sitting across from him. “That’s surprising. How recent?”

“I escorted a new arrival down just before seeing you,” Pardinthe told him, with no lack of pride. The enjoyment the nymph got from certain parts of her job was deeply unsettling to Nick.

“Send me the records of the additions in the last quarter century. We may need to review our judging criteria for that sector.” Nick was uncomfortable with the thought of anyone who didn’t absolutely deserve it being sent below, and it was highly unusual for a mortal to end up there. That’s not to say that some particularly wicked souls had not earned their place, but if any of those guilty of lesser offenses could be reassigned to a less punitive sector, that would be Nick’s preference. 

“I’ll have them on your desk before the end of day,” the nymph said. Nick opened his mouth to dismiss her, but she leaned back to settle into her chair. He supposed he should speak to her about another matter, anyhow. “I met our new guest,” she said, beating him to it. 

“I heard.”

“She’s eager, that one.”

“Sure.”

“What do you think of her?” 

The ocelot raked over Nick with her eyes. The nymph had a habit of making him distinctly uncomfortable, and he wasn’t oblivious to her unreciprocated intentions, but he had kept her in her position all these years because few others were willing to do the job. Even he never went below if there was any way around it. “What am I supposed to think of her? She’s a minor goddess who doesn’t belong here.” Nick said the words because they were true. But it was also true that the rabbit had made herself valuable here.

Pardinthe smiled widely. “That’s certainly the case. But she seems to want to fit in so badly. It’s cute, really.”

“Just leave her be, Pardinthe. She’ll be gone soon enough.”

The nymph’s smile didn’t waver. “What, I’m not allowed to make new friends?”

“You don’t have friends.”

Nick cursed himself often at moments like this, when his mouth moved faster than his mind. The slightest shadow of hurt crossed Pardinthe’s face before she recovered, and he could not help but feel a little bad. “Boo. But she was so excited to help me out this morning. I thought we were bonding.”

Nick’s tail twitched, and he straightened in his seat. “Help you?”

“I ran into our bunny when I was heading down with the soul. She was curious what I was doing with the poor dead mortal, and she wanted to join me.”

Nick glared at Pardinthe as he struggled to keep his panic from flaring. “You told her no, correct? Sent her back to her desk?”

“If I were you, I wouldn’t underestimate the girl, Nick. She seems quite capable to me.”

“Don’t toy with me, Pardinthe.”

The ocelot loosed a melodramatic sigh. “Fine. It’s no fun if you get your tail all in a twist." She paused, then asked, "Do you really care what happens to the bunny?”

Nick lifted a paw, a warning to the nymph to stop testing him. “Now, Pardinthe.”

The nymph’s eyes flashed with anger, and she lurched from her seat to stand. She glared down at him and half-shouted, “She’ll be fine! She took the soul the rest of the way for me, but she can’t get farther than the first block of cells.” Her demeanor softened just as quickly as Nick knew it would. This was the problem with never following through on promises of discipline. Mammals started to think they could get away with anything. Pardinthe slinked around the desk to run a paw across Nick’s shoulder, her voice slipping to a near purr. “If you _are_ worried, why don’t I distract you?”

Nick stood as well, and pulled himself away from the nymph. He clicked two of the claws on his left paw together, and his office and the nymph vanished.

The fur between Nick’s shoulders was standing on end nearly before he materialized at the entrance to the below. He fought to keep his ears erect and straining to listen for any signs of the rabbit beyond the gateway. There was no door. Instead, a short tunnel of white marble marked the entrance. Gruesome scenes from various punishments doled out over the years, all before Nick’s time in this position, were carved into the marble with painstaking detail. He was careful not to look at them. 

No sound reached Nick. There were all sorts of roaming entities in this hellhole of a prison, some who were powerful enough to consider their cell a mere suggestion. Nick desperately hoped the rabbit had come to her senses upon reaching this point, and returned to the upper level to find someone more qualified to escort the soul. 

From what little he had seen of her so far, that seemed unlikely. Not because she was stupid, but because she was stubborn. Sometimes the two just came across as the same thing. 

Another click of his claws, and he was past the gateway. 

Nothing. 

One more click, and he was on the other side of the cell block. It was less of a block than an ellipse, and standing at the point he did allowed him to hear in both directions. 

A dull thump and a muffled cry sounded far to his right. Nick set off running down the dark corridor, but it was still several long moments before he stumbled upon the scene of a small bunny facing off a much larger, much more ominous silhouette. 

She’d been the one to take the fall he had heard, that much was clear. The doe nearly panted with exertion as she held her paws in front of her, and her skirt was torn to shreds. Blood welled from several scratches on her face and arms, but not enough to indicate serious injury. She hadn’t seen him yet, even though Nick stood close enough to see that her face was set in an expression of not fear, but grim determination. 

The phantasm--an angry condemned soul of some sort, Nick didn’t particularly care which--reached an impossibly long limb towards the bunny. He lifted a paw, but before he could react by moving the adversaries apart, the rabbit ran a few steps and turned sharply. A hard kick of her hind limbs aimed at the lower half of the entity connected with a snap. The shadow toppled over, hitting the floor with a sickly thump.

Nick’s jaw slackened with shock. He lowered his paw. Perhaps he had underestimated the bunny. 

Her violet eyes latched onto his. Nick offered a weak smile, and called, “I came to rescue a damsel, but I believe it’s this poor soul who is in distress.”

To his surprise, she smiled at his weak joke as she stepped around the fallen entity to approach him. “Thank you, my lord.”

“My lady.” Nick sketched a bow as she stopped in front of him. “Care to--”

The rabbit barely had time to gasp before she was yanked back. Nick reached forward automatically, but was inches from grabbing her. Her face smashed into the floor, and blood followed in a dark streak on the floor as the black tendril wrapped around her ankle pulled her towards the toppled spirit. 

A low sound of alarm slipped from Nick’s throat. He brought down a paw in a slashing motion, willing the tendril to let the bunny go. It writhed, a high-pitched shriek rattling through the walls of the prison, but it held fast.

This place was not meant to house regular spirits. Nick would need to exert more power than that to force them to obey.

Two more figures materialized from behind the first, which still had the rabbit in its grip. She was limp, her head lolling to the side as she was hoisted to dangle in front of the specter. A weak groan escaped her, but her eyes remained closed. Blood stained the lighter grey underside of her muzzle and throat. 

Nick ran as close to the two new spirits as he dared, and planted his feet hard on the marble floor. He reached out with his power, and it collided with the corrupt natures of the two beings that stood before him. 

A cacophony of images raced through his mind as he willed the spirits back to their holdings. The deeds of whoever these things had been in their previous life, all the atrocities they had committed when still mortal, bled together in his head until he could only pray that one day they might leave his memory.

One final push of his own will, and the images receded as quickly as they had appeared. Nick’s eyes had closed at some point, and he opened them to see the two figures gone, and the third still holding the bunny.

Only a moment could have passed, but Nick felt nearly spent. 

The entity was corporeal, to an extent, as the bunny’s kick had shown. Nick had no desire to see what sins this soul was guilty of, and he reached into his reserves to direct his energy at the marble below him rather than toward the specter itself. A thin sheet of rock erupted upwards, and the tendril that held the rabbit severed.

The entity howled its outrage, and the still dazed bunny landed hard on the ground. The detached limb still reached for her. The rabbit stirred, her eyes fluttering, and Nick lunged for her. 

The soul was faster than Nick was, and a host of other tendrils wound their way around his middle, pinning his arms to his side before he could make another move on the thing.

Unlike the souls above, those that had been down here for centuries and millennia were far less likely to recognize his authority over them. Many had existed, sinned to the point of poisoning their souls, and died all long before there had ever been a trace of Nick in the mind of the universe.

Nick struggled out of instinct, even as he was aware that he would never physically overpower the tentacles. Cold breath seeped down his spine, and he could only send out weak pulses of his power that had little impact on his captor. 

The bunny was sitting up now, her eyes dim with confusion as she took in the scene. 

“Carrots,” he managed to choke out. “A little help here.”

“What can I do?” she cried back. 

She was a goddess, and she was asking him what to do? “ _Something_ ,” he called. “Use your powers.”

For the first time, something like fear crossed her face. But the rabbit planted her paws on the marble, fingers splayed, and closed her eyes. 

Seconds passed with no change, and Nick cursed inwardly as his body protested under the strain of the entity crushing him. He wouldn’t die no matter what it did to him, but it would hurt nonetheless. 

Finally, a slight shudder went through the floor. Small cracks appeared in the stone, snaking up the walls towards the vaulted ceiling of the cavern. Seconds more, and vines sprouted from the fissures. The green tendrils lashed out towards the corrupt soul, and the grip on Nick loosened. 

A push of his own power, and he was released enough to drop awkwardly on the floor. Pain flashed through his knees, but he whirled, reaching into his reserves to combat the spirit. 

His vision snagged on a black shadow as it wound its way to the bunny, who was still concentrating on wielding her vines. She was unaware of the approach.

That was it. Nick had been frustrated before, but he was angry now. The first was a familiar feeling, but the latter was a novel sensation. He had long ago suppressed it, but he used it now, and when he reached for his power he found it hadn’t been depleted at all. 

Half a thought, and the entity vanished into spectral dust. Another, and the bunny’s vines wilted, the cracks closing to cut them off at their source until the ground was littered with the dead remnants of her efforts. 

The doe blinked up at him in surprise, and Nick grabbed her roughly under an arm. “I’ve had more than enough of this,” he told her. Then they were gone. 

\--------------------------------

Nick released Judy’s arm as soon as they materialized in a chamber, and the bunny stumbled forward a step without his steadying grip. Her body hurt, and her face throbbed. She could still taste blood in her mouth.

She watched, wary, as the fox stalked away from her. His tail was disheveled, and grazed the ground as he moved. Blood and dirt matted some of the brassy fur, and she had the unexpected urge to brush it back to its usually fluffy state. 

They were in a bedchamber, very similar to her own, and a large bed occupied the space behind Judy. Nick stopped when he reached the wall in front of him. His head drooped between his shoulders, and Judy began to fear he had overexerted himself on her behalf. 

“Nick?” she asked in a soft voice. “Are you alright?”

“Peachy, Carrots.”

She flinched a little at the cold tone. Perhaps that had not been the right question. She had nearly gotten herself torn into pieces, and he’d had to step in to rescue her. He had every right to be furious. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“What in the Underworld were you doing down in the prison?” Nick asked, whirling on her. “Do you even know how dangerous that place is? Any one of those souls could have shredded you, and that’s to say nothing of the titans.”

“I didn’t realize--I just wanted to help. I thought maybe if I showed Pardinthe that I wasn’t totally useless, she would understand that I had no intention of messing things up around here.”

“What did I tell you about keeping away from her?”

“And what did I tell you about the fact I could speak to her myself?” Judy shot back. 

“Really? Could you speak to her yourself? That’s not what it sounded like when you came to my office to complain about the situation.”

Judy’s ears heated. She _had_ been behaving like a kit. “I know. And I am sorry. I should never have asked you to handle it for me.”

Nick held her gaze for a moment, then sighed and waved a paw. A stack of cloth and a basin appeared on a small table beside the bed, steam curling from the water within it. Waves of tension still rolled off the fox, but his voice was gentler when he spoke next. 

“And I should have listened to you before making assumptions. Sit. Let’s get your face taken care of.”

The discussion was over, just like that. Nick hadn’t quite apologized, but he also did not seem like he was going to hold her mistake over her head. To see a god let go of something so easily was unexpected. Relief flooded her. 

Judy perched tentatively on the bed and allowed Nick to touch a paw to her forehead. Instantly, the throbbing in her face vanished. She raised her fingers to her mouth. They came away clean. She moved her jaw experimentally to test for any lingering soreness, and felt none. 

“Amazing,” she said. “You can do that so easily.”

“It’s not a big deal.” Nick wet a cloth and handed it to her. “Use this. There will still be residue. Anything else injured?”

“Nothing more than bruises,” she told him as she scrubbed. 

He reached forward again, and this time when he touched her head a mild tingling shot through her. Her aches disappeared. 

Before she could express her gratitude, he drew the paw away and said, “I underestimated you. It was stupid to go down there, but you handled yourself better than I would have expected.”

Judy blinked at Nick. The concession seemed to pain him. His eyes were darting around, refusing to look at her. “I can hardly do anything. You told me to use my powers, and I panicked. I’ve always been weak.”

Nick’s green eyes flicked to hers. “That didn’t look weak to me. You helped me out of bind. If I were mortal, you would have saved my life.”

Judy let her used cloth drop back into the water basin and grabbed a fresh one to dry her fur. “That did surprise me, a bit,” she admitted. “That you would need my help for anything.”

Nick rubbed the back of his neck. Then he sat on the bed next to her with a grimace. The mattress sagged and Judy had to lean in the opposite direction to avoid falling into his shoulder. “It should never have been that hard to use my power.”

“But you did eventually,” Judy pointed out. 

“Once I got angry.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Is that how it works for most of you?” 

“No. At least, I don’t think so. But Gaia knows my brothers are pissed off often enough, and they are plenty strong.”

“Maybe it’s like a muscle? I haven’t seen or heard of you doing much with your power since I’ve been here.”

“You saying I’m out of shape, Carrots?”

“N-no, my lord,” Judy stuttered. Nick just chuckled. He was teasing her, she realized. She offered a small smile. 

“You might not be completely off the mark. I do spend most of my time behind that desk.”

“Then you should get out more.” She’d only seen him out of the office once--twice, now. And both times had been to deal with a crisis. Judy wondered if he ever did anything for fun. 

Nick snorted. “Maybe I’ll try that.” He turned to face her, and added, “Now, do you want to tell me the real reason you went where no sane mammal would go?”

Judy shied away from the intensity of his look. Her attention turned to the steam rising from the bowl, and her ears draped down her back. He had helped her when it would have been easier to just leave her be, and she owed him this truth. “It wasn’t a lie to say I wanted to help. But I also knew Pardinthe was probably up to something. I didn’t care. I went down because I thought there might be an exit somewhere.”

She felt more than saw Nick tense beside her. Her fists balled, and she waited for a reprimand.

“I can’t say I blame you.”

Her anxiety vanished. “You aren’t angry with me?”

Nick stood to pace a few steps away before looking at her again. “What do I have to be upset about?”

“Well, I caused a lot of trouble for you.”

He shook his head. “Not more than I caused for you. And no more than my brother caused both of us.”

Judy furrowed her brow. “I don’t understand.”

Nick threw his paws over his head, his ears flattening. “Oh, come on, Fluff. Enough of the dumb bunny act. You were there at the party--you heard what he wanted.”

Judy frowned, and strained to bring her murky memories from her first night in the Underworld to the surface. She easily remembered the bunny who looked like her, and she recalled being terrified of the king. Even more intimidating than him had been his wife, Hayra. Nick had later told her that his brother wanted her in the Underworld while Nick himself would have gladly sent her home. She just hadn’t connected the dots. Or maybe she avoided thinking about it much. But before she had ended up on the stage and gotten knocked out, the king had been giving some kind of speech. Something about the harvest, and--

“Oh,” she mouthed. 

Nick nodded. “You see my dilemma? I can’t let you leave because my jerk of a brother refuses to allow me to let you leave. And I have no desire to spend the next millennia tied to a rock or trying to push a boulder up a mountain.”

“He’s really willing to let mortals continue to die until you give in? I know my mother, and she’s stubborn.”

“You had to get it from somewhere.”

“Shush,” Judy said, but grinned.

Nick’s return smirk lasted only a second. “To answer your question, yes. Moos is not the type to give up easily. Or to care much what happens to the mortals, frankly.”

Judy had heard enough rumours of the king’s punishments to know he appeared to have little regard for suffering, and that the god was prone to--in her opinion--grossly overreact to perceived slights and disobedience. “So what are you going to do?”

“Your mother is taking care of it for us.”

“But you _just_ said that won’t change Moos’ mind…”

“It will once he realizes that without mortals, there’s going to be nobody around to worship his bovine butt.”

“Nick, the number of mammals that will die before that happens...there has to be something else.”

The fox dropped back onto the mattress beside her, his ears pointing outward in a rather dejected manner. “At one point I thought that if it were possible to sneak you back up top every now and then that you could reverse some of the damage from Bonnie, enough to keep some mammals alive, being a goddess of agriculture and all. But having seen you use your powers, I’m not sure that’s an option.”

He said it without malice, and Judy tried to not let the words sting. It was true that she had no hope of outdoing her mother. She bobbed her head and made a small, noncommittal noise. 

“If you have other ideas, I’m all ears,” Nick said.

Judy had none. All she knew was that her mother, Moos and Hayra were behaving unacceptably. “There has to be something. I’ll sleep on it,” she told Nick. 

“Right, you should rest. I guess today wasn’t much of a day off for you, in the end.”

“Other than the nearly being crushed by malevolent spirits, I don’t mind. I like the job,” she told him honestly. “It feels nice to do something productive, and I want to help the souls.”

“There are some other things I think you might be suited to, if you’re interested. Come by the office tomorrow--after you sleep--and I’ll show you.”

“I will,” she said, and she intended to. She paused, then reached a paw out to place on Nick’s arm. “Thank you for talking to me, Nick. I’m glad you did.”

Nick glanced at her paw, his jaw open slightly. Then he gently shrugged off her touch and stood again. 

“I’ll take you back to your room,” he said, extending his paw. Judy’s mouth gaped slightly as it occurred to her that the bedchamber they were in must have been his--it was so impersonal, no individual belongings in sight, that despite the recently used look of the bed she could have assumed it was any generic chamber in the complex.

Nick, noticing her hesitation, added, “I know my company is a treat, Fluff, but I need to sleep, too.” The bunny’s ears warmed, and she quickly reached for his paw. As soon as Judy’s paw grazed the rough surface of his pads, they appeared in the hall in front of her own room. The fox disappeared again before she could utter as much as a thank you. 

Sleeping little that night, Judy considered what she had been told. Her problems seemed to be increasing in number, but she had two small successes from today. First, she had successfully used her powers to defend herself and someone else. 

Second, and more important, while the enemy of her enemy might not be her friend, exactly, she may have just found an ally.


	5. Chapter 5

Nick paced around his office as he waited. After leaving the bunny--he tried thinking of her as Judy following their most recent encounter, but it didn’t seem to fit--he had hardly slept. He’d been sleeping little since the night of the party so many weeks ago, and it was wearing on him. Too many problems to solve. Thankfully, he had an idea for a solution to at least one.

“Boss?” Clawhauser broke into his thoughts, “Giraffrodite had a return message for you, but I don’t know if you want to hear it.”

“Probably not,” he agreed. “What is it?”

“She’ll keep the cub for now, but she insists that someone foster him here next month while she uses her vacation time. She’ll take him back after that.”

“She’s the love goddess. What can she possibly need a vacation from? If anyone needs time off, it’s Big.”

Clawhauser frowned. “I don’t know about that, boss.”

“Right.” Nick shivered slightly. That was yet another god that he avoided whenever possible--Big seemed to have entirely too much enthusiasm for carrying out what he liked to call “icing” the mortals. 

“Really boss, the cub is pretty cute. All those stripes and little toes and teeny weeny claws--”

“Keep it up and you’ll be the one taking care of him,” Nick warned. 

“Fine by me!”

Nick continued to pace while Clawhauser turned back to his task of sorting the most recent staff complaints for Nick to read and address later. The stack was looking high--no doubt mammals were tired of double shifts and constant soul wrestling, as much as he tried to ensure everyone got their due time off. 

“I heard you and Judy had a bit of an adventure yesterday,” Clawhauser said after a few moments. The cheetah lacked subtlety, and Nick rolled his eyes at his back. 

“Did you speak to Pardinthe?”

Clawhauser ignored him, adding, “I also heard you ended up at her room late last night.”

“What?” Nick stopped pacing and faced him. “Clawhauser, I dropped her off in the hall, and I was there for less than a second--”

“I have my sources, that’s all I can say,” the cheetah said. Nick’s paws clenched at the cheery, self-satisfied tone, but it was difficult to be truly upset with the mammal. His unnerving propensity for gathering gossip was why Nick kept him around in the first place, and he had never done anything to lose Nick’s absolute trust. 

“It wasn’t like that,” Nick said. “She ended up below, and when I went down she was in the middle of an altercation with some nasty souls. I brought her back here to get cleaned up and then sent her to bed. End of story.”

It was Clawhauser’s turn to look shocked. The cat’s jowls wobbled slightly as his mouth worked in a silent O. “Judy ended up below?”

Nick softened at the obvious concern. “Only briefly. And she’s fine. You’ll see for yourself at some point today, I’m sure.”

“Are _you_ alright?”

Nick started at the question. “Of course,” he replied. It was automatic. Of course he was fine, because this was his realm--nothing could touch him here, not really.

“That’s good, boss. But Pardinthe should have something to say for herself.”

“I’ll deal with her later.”

Nick settled back at his desk as Clawhauser finished, and set to work reading the list of complaints. All what he expected, and few that he had any real ability to improve on in the current situation. It was good that someone else he knew had a better mind for these things. 

Within the hour, Clawhauser was gone and Nick had reviewed the complaints. He was setting to work on accounting when the bunny knocked. She entered without waiting for a response, but Nick found himself smiling as she approached his desk.

“Sleep well, Carrots?”

She furrowed her brows as she took him in. “Better than you, by the looks of it.”

“Hurtful.” It was true, though. Somehow, the rabbit looked immaculately groomed and well-rested, even pretty, while even he had shied away from his own reflection just hours ago.

“Thanks again, for last night,” she started slowly. “Really, I--”

“Don’t worry about it. Just promise me you will stay away from there in the future. It’s no place for a cute little bunny.”

The rabbit raised a brow at him, but then put her paws up. “Promise. Never again.”

“Good,” Nick grinned. “So, ready for another job?”

“Always. What is it?”

“You’ve proven you have a sense for efficiency.” Nick pushed the stack of complaints across the desk with one paw. “Handling the staff has never been my strength, and I don’t have many fans in the workforce. I’ve been dealing with the same issues for the past two hundred years, and it would be nice to get them finally resolved.”

“Two hundred years? What did you do before that to avoid problems?”

Nick shrugged. “That’s when I started. It was more or less the same before I got here.”

The rabbit had a look of confusion plastered on her face. “But, that’s so recent…”

“I’m not the original Lord. When the previous...retired, my brother decided I was right for the role.” Nick shrugged again. “So here I am.”

The rabbit was still looking at him with something like shock, and he nodded to the stack of parchment. “Carrots?”

“Right, yes. So you would like me to help you address these concerns. I can do that.”

“I know you can. That’s why I’d like you to take over mammal management,” he said. Her rounded violet eyes grew even wider, and he added, “Temporarily.”

“Take over?”

“Does that work?”

“Yes! Of course, my lord.”

“Excellent.” Nick pulled another ledger from a desk drawer to hand to her. “This is the scheduling information and staff records. If you can find a better way to keep the work getting done without exhausting our mammals, please do it. But don’t be _too_ efficient--I want everyone to keep their job.”

“Understood.” The doe bobbed her head, and if she was disappointed at all in being assigned what would ultimately amount to more paperwork, Nick could not see it. 

“Take your time, do what you need to do. After, meet me at the west garden this evening. I want to discuss the second part of your duties.”

The rabbit gathered the ledgers and clutched them to her chest. “See you this evening,” she said. Before she slipped from the office, she turned back to add, “For what it’s worth, I think that most mammals really do like you. You’re a fair boss.”

With a small smile, the bunny was gone. 

The day passed slowly, and Nick kept his nose to his desk until the brush of fur on his cheek startled him.

Nick pushed himself away from the yak leaning over his shoulder, partly to avoid the invasion of his personal space and partly to protect his nose from the blend of aromas currently assaulting it. “What are you working on there?” Furmes asked. 

“A little warning next time?” Nick snapped. He should have expected the messenger, but he had been so absorbed in his work that he hadn’t sensed his arrival. 

“Huh? Oh, for sure. Got a few things for you today.” Furmes produced four bound scrolls of messages, which Nick tossed on his desk without looking at. 

“Thanks. Here is all I have for you,” Nick said, pulling a scroll out of a drawer. “It’s for my brother. But I need you to stop by the archives to find someone else who will have a message to send with you…”

“You could have given me a heads up!”

Nick suppressed a smile as he heard the bunny’s approach, and smoothed his muzzle into a mask of innocence before turning to face her. “About what?” he asked.

The doe stopped to glare up at him, paws balled on her hips. “You know exactly what. Do you know how embarrassing it was to have Furmes track me down in the middle of the workroom? I had no idea he would be--”

“Completely naked?”

“--indecent, and the noise I made…” she slapped a paw to her forehead and dragged it down the side of her face. “So embarrassing,” she repeated.

Nick had to laugh. “Moos won’t allow him on Zoolypus without at least a loincloth, but he has no reservations here.”

“It was quite a surprise.”

“I told you he was coming,” Nick pointed out. He smirked. “Didn’t realize you needed to-the-minute updates.”

“Very mature,” she said. She held her glare for another moment, making her point, before her face softened. “Thank you for letting me send that message. I thought you would want to read it beforehand, too, so I also appreciate you trusting me.”

Nick waved off her gratitude. “Furmes reads everyone’s mail. If he saw something that was an issue, he would let me know.”

“He _what_? Is there no privacy around here?”

“You’re new, Carrots, but you should learn that there are very few secrets among the Zoolympians.”

“I can see why.” She paused, her eyes roaming over the scenery. “Are we going to stand here all evening, or…?

Nick huffed another laugh. “I want to hear about how work was today, but first I want you to grow me a lemon tree.” He gestured to the expanse of garden before them, and the rabbit only looked up at him with confusion. They stood alone in the west garden, all other mammals done for the evening. It took little effort to maintain the Underworld fields and gardens, but most of it was done manually. Growing crops was beyond the scope of Nick’s own abilities. 

“You have a lemon tree over there,” she said, pointing. He looked, and supposed she was right.

“A pear tree, then. I don’t see one of those.”

For a moment, Nick thought she would argue with him. He watched as the bunny’s pink nose twitched frantically, and she stared at the ground as though sizing up the soil for a fight. Finally, she knelt to place one paw in the dirt. With her fingers nearly buried, she closed her eyes.

Nick could feel the strain coming from her. Before, when they were below, he had been too distracted by his own situation to appreciate the effort it must have required to use her power to the extent she had managed. He was all the more impressed for it, and grateful. Now barely a trickle of power was reaching his senses, and it was long minutes before a small green shoot erupted from the ground. It grew to the height of Nick’s knee before slowing to a stop. 

The rabbit sat back on her haunches and hung her head. “It’s pathetic,” she muttered. 

Clawhauser had made it clear to Nick how depressed the bunny was when she arrived in the Underworld. Actually _hearing_ something so disheartened come from her mouth was antithetical to what he had seen of her so far, and the urge to correct it struck him. “You’re still young, Carrots. It will come in time.”

The rabbit was on her feet and had a muddy paw in his face before he could react. “It’s not just that! I’m plenty old enough to do something so simple. I’m just useless.”

The fox gently pushed her paw away from him. “You’re right.”

The bunny staggered back a step, visible hurt and shock flashing across her face. Her ears wilted, and Nick thought she might run. He hurried to explain. “It’s not just because you’re young. It’s because you don’t think you can do it. You keep telling yourself that you’re useless, or weak--maybe somebody else told you that at some point, too--and you believe it enough that it impacts your ability.”

The bunny sniffed. Her eyes were bright with what may have been tears. Her gaze dropped away from his eyes to her feet. “My mother,” she said in a small voice. “Mom always says it’s because I’m young. But I always feel like she knows that I’ll never be as good as her. That I won’t make it on my own.”

Nick generally tried to avoid judging a mammal before meeting them, but between the famine in the mortal realm and what he was hearing from the bunny, he had more than a few choice words for Bonnie. But the last thing this doe needed was his pity, and he was inept at giving comfort. “Look, Carrots. I know a thing or two about overbearing families. Your mother might be a goddess, and maybe there’s even some truth to what she tells you. I couldn’t say. But I can say that for you to not even try is a load of crap, and I expected better.”

Nick smirked a little at the way the bunny’s ears immediately flipped up, and her paws clenched. She was angry. Good. Anything was better than how morose she had been a moment ago. 

“I _am_ trying,” she said hotly. 

“Are you? Because I don’t see a pear tree anywhere around here.”

The doe huffed through her nose, and placed a paw back on the ground. Within seconds, the shoot erupted. The stem thickened, and leaves began to bud from the infant branches. A full minute later they stood under the canopy of a modestly sized pear tree.

Nick plucked a fruit from a low branch and bit into it. “That’s more like it,” he said around a mouthful of pear. 

The bunny was admiring her own work with awe. She faced him and said, “You baited me into that.”

“It worked, didn’t it?”

She shook her head, and a paw swiped for his pear. Nick lifted it out of reach. “None for you, Fluff. Seriously.”

“Right. Sorry, forgot where I was for a moment.” She eyed him eating. It made him conscious of the juice dripping into his neck fur. “How is it?” she asked. 

“Delicious.”

She gave him a broad, toothy grin, and Nick looked away quickly.

He swallowed the last of the pear and threw the core farther into the field. He then cleared his throat and tried to turn on his most instructional persona. “So, now that we know you can do that,” he pointed at the tree, “I want you to keep practicing. But not here.”

\---------------------

Judy followed Nick as he led her past the western field, and took the opportunity to fill him in on her day’s work. He seemed satisfied with what she had done so far, offering little commentary. He had next to no questions, and they eventually lapsed into a casual silence as they walked. 

Was this what it was like for someone to have confidence in her? Nick had said he wanted her to manage the scheduling and other duties--she thought that was an expression at first, and that he would still be overseeing every move she made. But it seemed as though he truly intended for her to have autonomy in her work.

When she returned home, she wanted--needed--to hold onto this feeling. 

The message to her mother that Judy had sent with Furmes was short. Judy had struggled to know how much to put into it, and there was part of her that was too hurt by her mother’s actions to know what to say to her. In the end, Judy had let Bonnie know that she was being treated well in the Underworld, and that she was disappointed in the number of mortals dying. She had asked her mother to return the earth’s fertility, and promised that they would see one another soon. Judy had to hope that was enough.

Nick’s voice startled her from her thoughts. That was not to say she found the interruption unpleasant. In fact, she was happy to be reminded that he was still beside her. “Door number three,” he said.

They had never gone through a door or a distinct passageway that Judy had noticed, and yet the scenery had changed dramatically. The Underworld was generally dark, which Judy supposed lent to the fittingly gloomy atmosphere of the place, but it was much brighter where they stood now. The fields had given way to smooth marble once more, polished to the point of being reflective. The walls and structure of the Underworld, which often behaved like the mortal realm, were gone, faded away into a haze that stretched around them in every direction. Four identical stone arches stood in front of them, arranged in a crescent, and set into nothing. 

Nick did not seem to notice her apprehension, and he walked up to the third door on the right. As she drew near, peeking from behind Nick’s shoulder, she could see that this door was marked with a small carving of what looked like a river. 

She sighed. The preoccupation with rivers in this place was almost farcical. 

Nick grabbed her paw, and pulled her through the door with him. He did not open it--they simply stepped from one side of the threshold onto the other. A burst of warmth struck Judy before she clamped her eyes shut against the light.

“Elysium,” Nick announced. Judy blinked her eyes open to see that his ears were back and he was still squinting at the ground, his face twisted with discomfort. His larger paw was still wrapped firmly around hers, and she briefly wondered how long it would take for him to notice. When he did, would he--

Nick drew his arm back to rub his eyes with both paws. “Always so gods-damned bright,” he muttered. Judy stifled a giggle. The fox was obviously uncomfortable, but to her the sunlight, however artificial, was more than welcome. 

“This is one of the distinguished sectors,” Judy said. She recognized the name from work, though she'd only ever recommended a few souls for this destination. They were in a wide field, surrounded by mammals of all kinds. Some looked over at the fox and bunny, but none seemed interested in their sudden arrival. No structures were in sight, and Judy thought that they might have ruined the stunning landscape had any been present. A glittering in the middle distance told Judy that there was indeed a river. Rolling hills of grass sprawled in one direction while desert stretched in another. Beyond that, she could make out the haze of a tall forest. 

“You told me once that I should treat the mammals who end up in the Underworld well,” Nick said. “Once they get through the mess out front, the best come here. Where they are treated _very_ well,” he informed her. 

The mammals, or their souls, did seem to be very content with where they were. “It looks like the mortal realm,” she observed.

“It is, more or less. There are different environments, and they exist here in a similar way to when they were alive. They don’t change, but they stay happy, for the most part.”

“It’s beautiful,” Judy said, then asked, “Why are you showing me this?”

Nick smirked down at her in a way that had alarms ringing. “You, my small friend, are going to be spending a lot of time here.”

Judy grumbled to herself as Nick sat under a tree, watching her from behind while she struggled to produce--well, produce. 

She’d been at it for an hour, at least, and not a single thing had sprouted beyond a few inches. Nick wanted her to grow food for the souls here. Apparently part of the reward of being in this sector was that they could enjoy the same things they did in life, and that included food. She wanted to help provide that, she really did, but she was failing.

“This is not working,” she called without turning. A soft chuckle floated over to her. 

“Quitting already?”

“You watching isn’t helping. Don’t you have better things to be doing?”

“None that are this entertaining.”

Judy groaned and flopped onto her back in the grass, arms spread. She felt drained, even though she hadn’t used her power for anything. Nick had told her she shouldn’t feel so strained here, that her power should be easier to access, but maybe he was wrong. Maybe that pear tree was all she had in her.

A shadow formed over Judy’s face, and Nick looked down his muzzle at her. “We can call it for today,” he told her. “But it’s been at least a half century since we gave these souls a proper feast. This is going to need to get done eventually.”

Judy sighed, and let her eyes drift closed. “Then you should have gotten a real goddess to do it,” she muttered. 

“Hey,” Nick said. There was a sharpness in his voice that had Judy sitting up to look at him. “You are a real goddess,” he told her. 

Judy swallowed. She wanted to look away, but his emerald eyes held hers. Reluctantly, she nodded. 

She had been taken to the Underworld against her will, but she had already accomplished more here than she ever had at home. She would do this, eventually.

In an instant, Nick’s face slipped back into its usual smirk. He held out a paw to help her up, but she ignored it and planted her paws on the ground where she sat. 

A single shoot burst into the strawberry bush she had intended it to be. 

“Nice work. But I like blueberries better,” Nick said. Judy’s ears flushed. She allowed the paw under her arm to pull her up. “Now, take a break.”

“Yes, my lord.” 

Nick smiled at the tease it was, and released her to walk back to the door.

They were nearly at the residential complex when Judy had an idea. “Is that food real?” she asked. 

“What food?”

“The food made in Elysium. The souls there eat it, but is it an illusion? It felt real when I was trying to grow it, but would it disappear if I tried to remove it from the sector?”

“No, it’s as real as you make it. But I was serious, if you’re hungry, tell me so--”

“That’s not it. We know that I can’t reverse what my mother has done in the mortal realm, and I can’t leave her without setting off warning bells anyhow.” She was unsure if she had assumed the last part correctly, and she looked to Nick. He nodded confirmation, and she continued, “But if I can produce food there, in Elysium, and you have someone bring it to the mortals--”

“Then we can at least slow the rate of the starving mammals,” Nick finished. He looked over at her with something close to pride on his face. “Carrots, I do believe that is a good idea.”

She boxed his arm. “No need to sound so surprised.”

“I’m not surprised at all.”

This day had been full of the most confidence boosting--if not outright praise--that Judy had experienced in her life, and she needed to ensure it didn’t go to her head. 

“I have a lot to learn, first,” she reminded Nick. 

“The fields are yours whenever you want to practice. You’ll be safe there.”

Judy nodded, then considered something. “It was easiest to use my power when I was angry. Even you admitted that anger makes you stronger. But I don’t want to have to be angry to be useful.”

“You used your powers just fine when we were being attacked,” Nick said. “But you didn’t seem angry then. Maybe afraid?”

Had she been afraid? There had been so much racing through Judy’s mind, and she was not sure if she had even processed what her thoughts were at the time. She’d been in pain, that much was clear, and then she had just been worried. For herself, but also for Nick. She didn’t want anything to happen to him that she was responsible for. 

She explained this to him, half braced for him to laugh. He only nodded sagely. “You care about mammals, Carrots. That’s what you need to tap into. Strong emotions, but positive ones. That, and having a little confidence.”

That did sound better than anger. “Is that what you lack? Confidence?”

Nick raised an eyebrow at her. “Sweetheart, you could bottle my confidence for a profit.”

Judy laughed, but something told her that was not necessarily true. 

When Nick left her outside her door with a goodnight, she searched her mind for something to say that would allow him to stay a bit longer. Finding nothing, and admonishing herself that she had already taken too much of his time, she waved a goodbye and slipped inside. 

\---------------------

Carrots had a truly impressive work ethic. That bar was low for immortals, and even lower for gods and goddesses, but Nick had quickly grown to admire her tenacity. 

He tried to bolster her confidence in the best way he knew how, but she’d needed so little encouragement before she grabbed it and made every endeavour her own. It made Nick think of how unsupportive her mother must have been, if his feeble attempts at reinforcing her value were at all effective. 

Or, it was possible he was giving both himself and Bonnie too much credit. Carrots was her own mammal, and she would be what she wanted to be. She was adaptable and determined, and that could be enough to overcome any shortcomings in natural talent. 

If her natural talents did not lay in agriculture, she had plenty in management. In the two weeks since he had given her the new role, staff morale seemed to be up significantly, and the complaints that arrived on his desk had all but disappeared. Already, Carrots seemed to know everyone, and was well liked by nearly all--besides Pardinthe, but Nick had dealt with her.

They were even starting to get ahead of the line of new arrivals. Unfortunately, it often seemed that whatever ground they managed to gain, Bonnie was hard at work reclaiming--by not working. 

Nick had always maintained the status quo of his predecessor. Partly it was due to his own lack of desire to work any harder than he had to. But part of him had been afraid of what could happen if he tried to change things and it didn’t work, or mammals refused to accept it. He thought his position was about authority and order, but Carrots had made it obvious that he could still run the place while considering the wants of the mammals here.

Of course, he had always tried to consider them before, and he’d never behaved like a tyrant. But it had been a failure because he never actually _asked_ them what they wanted. Even the complaints on his desk, plainly written out, hadn’t prompted him to investigate more. Assumptions, trying to fix problems before they started and instead creating new ones--it had all made his job more difficult than it needed to be. The bunny had changed more things than he could have ever thought to, and overall it was going smoothly. When something didn’t flow as hoped, she listened, and adjusted. Adapted. 

Once, Nick would have thought of himself as adaptable. It was easy to think that way when he had nothing to adapt to. 

Nick’s favourite new hobby was watching Carrots while she worked in Elysium. There was a large garden now, and everything that he had tasted from it had been impeccable. He was careful to avoid offering suggestions unless she asked, since tapping into one’s power was an individual process for every mammal anyway. And if she was bothered at all by his supervision, she never showed it, and simply worked away late into the evening before he would walk her back to her chamber. 

Nick hated saying goodnight. And every morning, he smiled when he would imagine meeting her in the garden after work.

This was bad.

Nick wasn’t even entirely ready to examine what _this_ was. 

They might be something close to friends now, but if Carrots caught wind of the thoughts he had when he saw her laughing with Clawhauser, or when her nose twitched in the way it did when she was concentrating, or when her violet eyes lit up and she gave that toothy smile…

Probably she would never speak to him again. 

That was what he _should_ want. This was exactly what Nick had tried to avoid when Moos hatched his ridiculous plan. It wasn’t possible for her to feel the same way--no matter the look he imagined on her face when he left every night--so he should be focusing on their plan to get her home, not his selfish fantasies of having a partner in life. 

He didn’t need a partner, anyhow, and to imagine Carrots in that role was ludicrous. What he needed was good staff, his brother off his back, and the freedom to do his job the way he always had. He needed to continue ignoring the tightness in his chest when he thought of the bunny leaving the Underworld permanently.

He groaned aloud, slumping back in his chair. 

“You bored or something?”

Nick’s tail frizzed. He looked down at Finnick. It was near the end of the day, and he had forgotten the smaller fox was in the office. And apparently, he had been saying something.

“What?”

The fennec’s ears pinned back. “Forget it. Just go already.”

Nick didn’t bother to deny anything before clicking his claws together to appear outside the Elysium door. 

He stepped through, and as if sensing his arrival, Carrots immediately turned in his direction and waved from a distance. As his eyes relaxed and he got closer, he took in her dirt-streaked gown and wide smile. She looked the happiest Nick had ever seen her.

The now expansive garden looked more or less the same. “Taking it easy today?” he asked.

She just smiled and waved him closer to one patch of bushes. The garden was a wild tangle, but somehow Carrots seemed to know where everything was.

“What am I supposed to be looking at?”

The bunny was nearly vibrating with excitement, and gestured frantically to a small bush a few feet away. “Look!” she exclaimed. “Blueberries!”

Nick looked at her with shock. “I’ve been working on them for weeks,” she told him. “They were so hard for some reason! But today I just came in here and, I don’t know, something clicked.”

Her smile faltered as he continued to look blankly at her. “They’re for you,” she added, as though it had been unclear.

Nick stared at the blueberries. 

Blueberries. 

For him.

Because he mentioned he liked them.

She remembered.

Weeks?

From the corner of his eye he saw Carrots bite her lip. “Do you want to try some?” she asked.

The worry in her voice snapped Nick out of his spiraling thoughts. “Of course I do.”

The berries were possibly the best thing he had ever eaten. He told her so.

Carrots beamed, and bounced over to him. His arm took a brief beating from her fisted paws--a rabbit quirk of hers he was becoming accustomed to--and then she was hugging him.

It was over before he’d had a chance to savour or return it, but he knew he would still replay the moment in his mind far too frequently over the coming days. 

This was very bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've cast Mr. Big as Thanatos, the god of nonviolent death. Actual "icing" would of course be pretty violent so it's only an expression in this case. Really, the image of a tiny shrew as a soul collector just made me laugh, and here we are. A story about the Underworld wouldn't be complete without a reference to Thanatos, but Mr. Big won't be making an actual appearance.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has read this far!


	6. Chapter 6

Judy tested a berry, plucking one from her basket to squeeze lightly. They were delicious, several mammals had confirmed for her earlier, like everything else she had successfully grown in the past week. She was taking these to Nick to ask if he thought it was time to start bringing food to the mortal realm, now that she could produce significant amounts with relative ease. That, and she hadn’t seen him in days. Not since she last showed off her progress in the garden. 

Work was busy but satisfying, and Benjamin and Fabi occupied her time when she was not working or in Elysium. She enjoyed their company. She also missed the company of a certain fox, and while she knew that she should never presume to have any sort of claim on his time, she wondered why he had stopped visiting her while she worked.

Nick had loved the blueberries. She was sure of it, because he had told her as much and he wouldn’t have lied to her about something like that. Judy was supposed to be focusing on the food for the mammals in Elysium, she knew, and she was--but she hadn’t been able to resist making something that Nick might like. Judy was unsure about why the berries had presented a challenge at first. She could grow them now, but they still didn’t come with the ease of the rest of the garden and were limited to a single bush. That was enough to bring a smile to Nick's face, and that was all she needed. 

So she spent recent days racking her mind for something she might have done to offend him. Nothing came to her. It was likely he was just busy, and perhaps he had only been putting up with her previously out of a sense of duty. Maybe she was an annoyance, a burden. It wouldn’t be the first time a mammal thought of her that way, and there was no real reason Nick wouldn’t see it that way as well. Discomfort spiked in her whenever that thought crossed her mind. She pushed it down. 

Judy tried the office first, but she only ran into Finnick. The surly fox told her that Nick was at the river, dealing with some business there. 

The issue now was that he hadn’t specified which river, and there were six. She tried the central river first, but it was quiet. He wasn’t at the next two streams Judy searched, but as she rounded a corner to approach the third on her list, her ears picked up a pair of recognizable voices.

“This is completely unfair,” Pardinthe said. Judy grimaced at the whine in the nymph’s voice. Judy could not see the river or the pair of mammals yet, and she stopped before she completely rounded the corner to avoid interrupting. She thanked her keen hearing for not having to strain to make out the conversation over the low weeping noises that had started to reach her a few minutes prior. 

“You called me down here to complain again? We’ve covered this. I asked you nicely to leave Carrots be, and you let her go into the most dangerous place in the Underworld. Alone. You’re lucky you still have a job,” Nick said. His voice was calm, almost dangerously so. Knowing now that the conversation was about her, Judy felt bad for eavesdropping, but pushed that aside when she considered that Pardinthe wouldn’t hesitate to invade her privacy. 

“It’s not like she would have _died_ ,” Pardinthe said. 

“That doesn’t matter. She still got hurt. And you still defied what was a very reasonable request.” 

Judy noted that Nick omitted his own struggle of being in that sector. 

“So you’re going to keep me on duty _here_? Do you know how annoying that sound is?”

“It’s hardly torture, Pardinthe, and I said one month at the most. That’s not much in an immortal lifetime. Spare me the dramatics.”

In reluctant defense of the nymph, Judy had to admit that this particular river did have an extremely unpleasant aura.

There was a long pause. The bunny made to turn the corner, thinking the conversation over before Pardinthe spoke again. Judy placed her basket on the ground by her feet and pressed herself back to the stone wall. 

“Nick,” she purred, “Are you really going to stay mad at me?”

“Stop.”

“Come on, I can make it up to you.”

“I said stop.”

Pardinthe said something too quietly for Judy to catch, but Nick’s answering growl startled Judy from her post and she stepped away from the wall to show herself. 

The ocelot was nearly draped around Nick, and one of her paws was sliding close to a sensitive area on the fox. Nick appeared to be trying to slip out of her grasp without hurting her. His discomfort was plain.

Hot rage welled up in Judy, and she raised her voice to say, “Enough. Let go, Pardinthe.”

The nymph and Nick looked at her at the same time. One face curled into a heinous sneer, while the other went wide eyed and looked away with shame. 

“You insufferable rabbit,” Pardinthe said. “Can’t seem to leave well enough alone, can you?”

“Pardinthe, please let go of Nick.”

The ocelot released Nick, only to stalk several steps toward Judy. Nick bristled, his eyes darting between the mammals. 

“Judy, can I catch up with you later? I need to finish speaking to Pardinthe.”

Lord of the Underworld or not, Judy had no intention of leaving Nick alone with this nymph. She met his green gaze. He exhaled heavily, seeming to realize as much. 

“Fine. Pardinthe, please excuse us. I will continue this meeting later,” he said, voice tight.

Nick moved to walk around the ocelot, who was nearly vibrating with rage. Her eyes hadn’t moved from Judy, and her lip was peeled back to reveal the gleam of a dangerous set of teeth. 

He reached Judy’s side and the pair turned. Instinctively, she reached out to squeeze Nick’s arm, and he smiled lightly down at her. 

They made it a few steps before Judy’s ears caught the movement of claws on stone. She whirled with a raised paw just as Pardinthe leapt for her, snarling, “You little wh--”

The air went taut for an instant, and then released with a clap that reverberated in the damp chamber. 

Judy heaved breath as she took in what she had done. 

Nick looked just as shocked as her as he stepped closer to inspect the situation. True to form, he recovered quickly. “Seriously, Carrots?”

Where Pardinthe had stood moments ago was a small leafy plant, rooted improbably into the solid rock of the ground. Judy had, without thinking, turned the nymph into…

“Catnip. Clever.”

“I--I didn’t mean to,” she said lamely. Her eyes were locked on the plant. “Did...did I kill her?”

Nick laughed, a genuine sound that had Judy looking up at him with alarm. Was he happy the nymph was dead? She was rude and unpleasant in so many ways, but to want her gone was cruelty Judy hadn’t thought Nick capable of. 

“Carrots, you really are such a dumb bunny sometimes,” Nick told her. Amusement laced every word, and Judy couldn’t help but smile back at him even as she still worried for the nymph’s fate. “No, you didn’t kill her. Just made her into a plant. She might even realize we’re laughing at her right now.”

Judy had heard only vague stories of such things happening. “I didn’t realize I could do that. Should I try to change her back?”

Nick tilted his head at the plant, considering. “Let’s leave her for a couple weeks. Keeps her out of our fur until then.”

“Sounds good to me,” she said, because it did. “She deserves it for what she was doing.”

Nick frowned. Embarrassment returned to his features. “I’ve been dealing with her for a long time. As you saw, she’s not shy about letting me know what she wants.”

Judy reached for his paw. He was an attractive mammal, and she could understand Pardinthe’s interest, but her actions had been unacceptable. To think that Nick had been quietly suffering because of her, potentially for centuries, stoked at her anger again. “You should never have to deal with that, Nick,” she told him gently. 

He entwined his fingers with hers and shrugged with a casualness that Judy doubted he felt. “I kept thinking she would get the hint. Maybe now something will click. If not, I can just call on you to turn her back into a plant.”

That wasn’t enough for Judy, but the brittleness in Nick’s voice suggested that now was not the time to push him. She smiled instead. “Anytime.”

Nick started back in the direction of the path away from the river, paw still clasping Judy’s. Her ears heated, and she shifted closer to his side. 

“Oh! The berries,” she said, spotting her forgotten basket by the wall. She bent to retrieve it, and held the container of blueberries up to Nick with one paw. The other refused to slip from the larger one encasing it. 

He raised a brow as he glanced between her and the berries. He threw a pawful into his mouth and smacked his lips appreciatively before speaking. “I’m more than happy to be a taste tester, but you could have just left these in the office.”

Judy rolled her eyes. “I could have, but then I wouldn’t know why you’ve been avoiding me recently.”

Nick’s expression hinted at nothing. “I’ve been busy. A realm to run, and everything.”

“You are always busy.”

“Exactly my point.”

“So what’s been different the last few days?”

“It’s sweet how much you missed me.”

Judy ground her teeth slightly. “Just answer me, for once.”

“Fine. I was merely leaving you to your business while attending some of my own. I figured maybe you were tired of having me watch you work all the time, and it’s not like you need constant oversight.”

“I liked having you around,” Judy said, frowning. “If you really don’t have the time, I understand. But I would rather you not assume that I wouldn’t want you there when I’ve given no indication that was the case. And maybe let me know, next time, so I’m not thinking that I did something wrong.”

Nick shifted as though he’d been reprimanded, and maybe in a way Judy had scolded him lightly. It was his own fault for being a dumb fox.

He opted to change the topic as he set off at a walk again. “How are things going? Ready to send some things up top?”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I think we have plenty now, and I can grow more and more everyday without getting as tired.”

“Then we can start moving it as early as tomorrow.”

Judy suspected the answer to her next question, but asked anyway. “Can I go, too? Just for a visit?”

Emerald eyes cut to hers, and Nick frowned. “It’s a bad idea.”

“You said Moos doesn’t pay attention to my corner of the mortal realm,” she pressed. “He might not notice a quick visit.”

“In this case it’s actually Hayra I would be more worried about. I think ultimately she’s more invested than my brother in keeping you down here, while Moos is just looking to avoid a lashing from her. She would likely notice if you showed up in the mortal realm. Even if she didn’t _and_ Equios stayed out of it, like I told you, there are very few secrets among the Zoolympians.”

That made sense, as much as she hated it. “But won’t they know it’s you bringing food up top? You could be punished.” Thinking of the possibility diminished her resolve that this was the best course of action.

Nick shrugged, lifting Judy’s paw with the motion. “Possibly. Moos does tend to threaten a lot of things. But I also get away with more than most because there are very few who would be suitable replacements in this job.”

“Why? It seems to me like you mostly take care of accounting,” Judy said. Nick smirked, but she no longer worried that she had offended him with her bluntness.

“That might be true. But there’s an image to be maintained with mortals. For all of the gods and goddesses, major and minor. The Underworld has a reputation to uphold, so the mammal stuck running it matters.”

“Most mortals aren’t really afraid of it, though. They don’t see the Underworld as some kind of fire and brimstone place for suffering and redemption.”

“Nor are they intended to, since that’s not what it is. Well, usually,” he said. Judy winced as she recalled her brief experience in the sector below. “Still, they shouldn’t get too comfortable with the idea that there will be no consequences for anything they do in life. They’re not intended to fear the Underworld itself, but the ruler of it should be someone suitably mysterious and dreadful. According to the Zoolympians, anyways. Hence, fox,” Nick explained, finishing with a gesture to himself. 

“You can appear as something else,” Judy said, not quite a question. She knew the other powerful gods could change their form at will, but most chose to spend most of the time in a preferred form that they felt suited them best. 

“Want to see me as an elephant, Fluff?” Nick nudged her arm with a smile. 

“No,” Judy said seriously. “The way you are is perfect.”

“You’re right about that,” he said, and Judy rolled her eyes. “Foxes are elusive and generally disliked. Makes for the ideal form for the ruler of the dead.” Nick leaned over to whisper conspiratorially into Judy’s upright ear. “Between you and me, I think the others just don’t want any more competition for temples.”

Judy laughed at that, knowing he was right. The other Zoolympians were conceited and adored being worshipped by the mortals. Even her own mother wasn’t immune to it, and Bonnie soaked in her fair share of fandom by choosing to dwell close to the mortals. In contrast, there were no offerings to the Lord of the Underworld, and Nick wasn’t the kind to seek that sort of attention. Judy doubted that any of the other Zoolympians could fill this position if it meant letting go of their egos.

“So, tomorrow, then,” she said, confirming their plans for the food she had produced. 

“Tomorrow it is. I’ll meet you in Elysium before work.”

They lapsed into silence. Judy was suddenly tired, and considered asking Nick to just transport them to the complex, but that would shorten the length of time she would spend with him. 

The fox still looked weary, but not as downtrodden as she had first noticed a couple weeks ago in his office. Judy could hope that part of that was due to her efforts in mammal management, taking some of the strain away from his job. She knew there were duties she wasn’t even aware of and that needed to be done by him personally, so she was happy to assist in a small way where she could. And selfishly, Judy was looking forward to showing her mother what she was capable of when she saw her again. 

“Has there been a return message from my mother?” she asked. 

“Nothing yet.”

Her ears wilted slightly, and she didn’t bother to hide her disappointment. “Maybe she’s no longer interested in having me home.”

The thought occurred to Judy--not for the first time recently--that maybe she was less interested in going home. 

Nick frowned down at her. “Why don’t we do something fun? You know, before my brother catches wind of our plan and we both wind up dead?”

Judy was torn between appreciating the attempt to cheer her and wanting to wallow in the guilt that rose in her throat. Nick was the one deserving of comfort tonight. Comfort she wasn’t sure she could offer--not sure he would accept. She settled for asking about his idea. “What do you have in mind?”

Nick was silent for a long moment. “I have no clue,” he finally admitted.

“I _knew_ you didn’t do anything for fun around here,” she accused, smiling.

“In my defense, I _am_ very busy. And it’s not a good look to mingle with staff.”

“We both know that’s a load of crackers.”

“Whoa, language,” Nick deadpanned. He added, “I guess I don’t do much outside of work.”

“Figures. Let’s find Benjamin.”

Nick released Judy’s paw as they entered the residential complex and turned towards the staff quarters. She felt the loss fiercely, but he had tolerated her grip on him this far, and that was more than she might have hoped for just an hour ago.

There were several communal areas for residents of the Underworld. Judy knew a variety of mammals by now, mostly from working in the archives behind the judges and through Benjamin. When her ears led them to the northern wing of the complex and they entered the large recreational space, Judy was pleased to find she recognized almost everyone who was present enjoying music and wine. 

Chatter dwindled as the mammals took in the sight of Nick beside the rabbit. A faint squeal sounded from near the back of the room, and a paw waved frantically over the heads of other mammals.

As Benjamin raced forward to greet the newcomers, the crowd resumed their activities. 

“What a good surprise! And you came together! How ador--”

“Benji, we need to show Nick a good time,” Judy said, cutting off the cheetah.

His answering grin was feral. Nick gulped audibly beside Judy. Benjamin grabbed the basket of fruit from Judy’s paws, and led them both into the crowd to mingle. 

Studying the back of Nick’s ears as he walked ahead of her, Judy hoped this was the right choice. 

Judy was up early, much earlier than usual, and raced to Elysium. Her legs were propelled by a potent mix of fear and excitement. If they succeeded, they would slow the descent of mortals into the Underworld. It would only be for a few, but it would be something. 

If they failed, Nick would end up with some horribly gruesome fate doled out by his brother and she would live with the guilt of that and her failure as a goddess forever. 

She couldn’t fail. 

Nick and Benjamin were already waiting when she burst through the doorway into the fields. About a half dozen other staff were also gathered, ready with large crates to fill with produce. Souls milled in the background as usual, uninterested in what the staff were doing. She smiled brightly at Nick and Benjamin.

“Good morning! Ready to make the world a better place?” 

The fox half-heartedly waved away her greeting with a scowl, but the bear behind him humoured her with a fist to the air. Benji only giggled. 

“Let’s get this over with,” Nick sighed. Mammals turned to him, waiting expectantly for his direction. He only raised his eyebrows at them and gestured widely to Judy.

The rabbit drew a deep breath and projected her voice across the crowd as she began delivering her plan. To her surprise, the eyes watching her were focused. Deferential.

Within the hour the expansive garden had been harvested, the produce distributed evenly between crates, and each mammal assigned a village to take their share to, with instructions to leave the food and be back in the Underworld as quickly as possible.

“Thank you, everyone. Good luck,” Judy called when the last crates were assembled. The host of mammals disappeared, Benjamin with his own crate, and she was left alone with Nick in the field. 

Anxiety struck. Her heart thumped. She resisted the urge to let her foot keep time with it. 

Suddenly she felt unsure of what to do with her paws, lacing them together to prevent fidgeting. “Now what?” she asked Nick. 

“Now we wait,” he said. His muzzle was pressed into a grim line. He, too, was more stressed about this than he had let on in front of the others. 

Judy pushed her fears aside--she refused to be a burden today. She leaned forward. “Breakfast? Without Benjamin here, you might be able get one of the decent pastries today.”

Triumph filled her as Nick gave her his first smile of the day.

\------------------------------

As he had watched the bunny laugh with her friends the night before, Nick wondered why he had ever had the stupid idea to avoid her in the first place. It had made sense at the time. The blueberries had shaken him. The feelings that he experienced following the blueberries had _terrified_ him. Carrots was still intent on going home, as she should be, and Nick didn’t want to get too attached. 

He was furious with his brother for bringing this on him. Anger had been his unpleasant companion since seeing Carrots fighting off that malicious spirit. It seemed to be growing, a living thing that gnawed at him from the inside. That anger had spilled over into his demeanour at the gathering last night. Others took notice, giving him a wide berth. After several glasses of wine he had loosened up, but bitterness was already long settled in his chest.

Nick hadn’t wanted much of anything before, and it was terrible to now want something he couldn’t have. 

Finnick had eventually trapped him in a corner of the recreation hall and demanded to know what his problem was. Nick hadn’t resisted long before unloading his pent up thoughts about the bunny and their circumstances. It had taken a stern--if foully worded--talking to by the smaller fox to remind him that she _also_ sought his company. She _also_ thought of them as friends. He couldn’t be in the mortal realm often, but when she left she could visit him here, if she so desired. Nick thought that she might. 

Seeing her in Elysium in the morning was a balm. He’d been cranky following the night out with Clawhauser, as he sometimes was after too much wine and brooding, but Carrots’ poise when managing the operation had lifted his mood. He’d seen the uncertain half-frowns that she tried to hide and the way she drew deep breaths to push her shoulders back. She’d done it, though, and done it well. Nick was proud of her. 

For some reason, those words had refused to come out of his mouth as they left Elysium.

“You can have one, I don’t mind.”

Carrots smiled up at him as he perused a selection of sweets on a tray outside his office. There were more options that he was used to, but that wasn’t the source of his delay. “It seems rude to eat when you can’t,” he told her. 

“I’m not hungry anyway,” she said, shrugging.

He grasped a pastry without further thought and ate it quickly. “I should get to work,” he said.

“Do you ever take a day off?”

“I took last night off,” he reminded her. 

“That hardly counts.” The pressure in the fox’s skull said otherwise, but he stayed quiet as she continued. “Besides, are you really going to be able to focus while we wait to see how things go today?”

Nick had a bad feeling about the glint in the bunny’s eyes. “They’ll be back in a few hours, at the most.”

“Exactly! So taking those few hours off won’t really hurt your productivity. I’ll help you catch up on the paperwork later.”

He sighed. “Alright. What do you want.”

“A tour.”

“You’ve been here for months. You know your way around.”

“Maybe, but I’ve never gotten the tour from _you_.”

“Last I recall, you also had a job to do around here.”

He might have meant it as a joke--it was hard to tell, with his sudden fear of being alone with the rabbit for too long and the ache in his head--but it was the wrong thing to say.

“Last _I_ recall, you weren’t dumb enough to think you could tell me what to do,” she shot back. 

Nick wanted to tell her how dumb he really was. Instead he said, “You’re right. I’m sorry.” He offered an elbow. “What do you want to see?”

Hurt forgotten, or perhaps just stored for later, Carrots gripped his arm. “I want you to show me your favourite place in the Underworld.”

Nick had always appreciated results, and he couldn’t argue with the ones he was seeing as his bunny looked at the sight in front of them. 

“It’s amazing,” she breathed.

“You’ve said that a dozen times.”

“Because it’s true.”

She was holding his paw the way she had taken to recently, and Nick took the opportunity to study her as her gaze was fixed on the cavern below them. The Underworld was almost always dim, but her features were clear in his vision. It fascinated him, how easily she wore her emotions on her face. 

She glanced at him and he shifted, embarrassed at being caught staring. “I, uh, wasn’t sure you would like this kind of thing. There’s a shortage of trees and plants and stuff. And it’s just kind of dark, usually. Not really what you’re used to.”

Carrots frowned. “I like things other than plants. Why do _you_ like it?”

“It’s quiet,” he said immediately. “And up close, this place is disjointed. It’s a patchwork, a mess most of the time. It’s ugly when you look at it in front of you. But from this distance, I can see everything at once, and it makes a little more sense.”

They stood on a small ledge overlooking the cavern that was the core of the Underworld. Sconce lights were specks below, dotting the pathways that wove around the main sector and the judging area. A more concentrated cluster of lights denoted the residential complex. Rivers twisted their way through and around the cavern until they disappeared into the distance in every direction. Several provided a soft luminescence that floated up, diffusing some of the shadow they stood in. The sectors that housed souls weren’t visible, but Nick could point out where each entrance was as if on a map. The edges of the Underworld bled into an inky darkness on all sides. Even Nick couldn’t be entirely sure what lay beyond the boundaries of what was firmly within his control. He knew mammals were moving around below, well outnumbered by souls, but there was no seeing them from this far up. 

“It’s beautiful from this distance,” the bunny agreed after a pause. “But it’s also beautiful up close.”

“Nobody thinks that.”

“I do,” she said firmly. “You might too, if you looked at it differently.”

“I’ve been looking at it for two centuries. Trust me when I say I’ve seen what there is to see.”

Violet eyes returned to scanning the scene below. “There’s a lot of mammals who call this place home, and who--despite your abysmal scheduling abilities--are quite happy here. The souls are treated well, and are content. There are things here that I still don’t understand, but that surprise me with how incredible they are. It’s dangerous, too, I know that. But even the scary parts just balance the other parts out. That’s what this place is, right? It balances what goes on up in the mortal realm and Zoolympus. You yourself told me that the Underworld isn’t supposed to be feared.” She paused. Nick heard his blood rushing in his ears. “So why do you hate it here so much?” she asked.

Nick’s voice was thick when he spoke. “How can you not hate it?”

“I did, at first.”

“Not anymore?”

“No. Not anymore. Don’t get me wrong, I do wish there were some windows…but there’s a lot of good here, too.”

When she turned towards him, Nick could only be thankful that rabbits had poor eyesight in the dark. “There’s some good,” he said.

His companion shifted closer. “Thank you for showing me this.”

Nick cleared his throat. “No problem, Carrots. Ready to head back?”

“Nick…”

Fingers skimmed the fur on the underside of Nick’s muzzle. A small, strangled noise slipped from the back of his throat. The bunny’s heat seeped into him where her body grazed his, and she leaned forward--he could stay still, he could let this happen, and then--

Then he would be ruined. Knowing what could be may be worse than never knowing. 

He turned his muzzle away from her touch. “We should get going. The others might have returned by now.”

Nick ignored the disappointment in her voice as Carrots leaned back and said, “Right. Walk or transport?”

“Walk,” he said, because he was unwilling to let the moment go completely even as he knew he couldn’t have it. Her paw tugged away from his but he gripped her fingers harder, silently asking her to let him keep this point of contact.

Gods, he was a coward sometimes. 

It was a meandering path back to the cavern floor, and much of it passed in uneasy quiet. Carrots broke the silence, true to her nature, with a question. 

“Nick, what are you going to do with Pardinthe?”

He flinched, covering it with a weak chuckle. “What do you mean? You kind of took care of that problem for me.”

Disapproval emanated from her. “We can’t leave her as a plant forever. She’s clearly a problem. Why don’t you tell her to leave the Underworld? I’m sure there are plenty of rivers in the mortal realm she could spend her time at.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“It should be.”

“What about your time here gave you that impression?”

“Can’t Moos reassign her or something? There has to be a way to get her out of your fur permanently.”

“There are rules about these things, Carrots. It’s not such an easy thing to evict a nymph when she’s bound to the rivers here. It’s her home, and as unpleasant as I find her, I need to deal with it.”

“It didn’t look to me like you were dealing with it well, and--”

“You want me to, what, _banish_ her?” Nick snapped, wrenching his paw away from hers. His humiliation at being caught in the nymph’s clutches had returned at her mention, and it fed his latent bitterness. 

“I want you to be happy. You shouldn’t have to handle everything alone,” she said gently. Soothingly. Like he was wounded, somehow. “I didn’t like seeing you struggle, and I don’t want that to happen again.”

Nick snorted, loudly. “What difference does it make to you?” 

“It makes a difference if my friend is hurting.”

He knew he was being unfair. His anger wasn’t at her. The words kept coming anyway. 

“You’re living in a fantasy, Carrots. You think that with enough flower juice and wishful thinking that things will just magically be better. You tell me to appreciate what I have here, and yet you can’t wait to run home, where your mother will go back to solving your problems for you. Where you’ll go back to being coddled and carefree and useless.”

“You don’t--”

“I don’t what? Know what I’m talking about? Try to enlighten me, then.”

Nick was breathing hard, and the pounding in his head increased. 

The bunny stepped back, a long stride away from him. Her gaze was firm as it met his, but unshed tears swam at the corners of her eyes. “I thought you weren’t like them,” she said. 

“ _Them_?”

She squared her shoulders. “I am not going to talk to you when you’re like this,” she said, and turned away, loping down the path ahead of him. 

Shame filled him, but Nick didn’t call out to stop her. 

The plan was working. 

Success lasted twelve days.

“Got it. See you tomorrow, boss.”

The cheetah disappeared, and Nick leaned back in his chair. Clawhauser had been uncharacteristically frosty toward him since his outburst at Carrots. Nick didn’t blame him.

Still, it was better this way, he told himself. It had to be.

His eyes drifted closed, and he was met with the image of the bunny just after he’d yelled at her. Her face was crumpled with hurt, and the fur rimming her eyes was damp. A spike of fresh loathing stabbed his gut. 

He hadn’t seen her since then. He’d avoided Elysium, sending Finnick in his place. She’d been churning out more than ever, his associate assured him. There was nothing to worry about.

Nick knew better than to believe that.

He sighed as the air crackled. His ears pinned. 

“Brother,” he said, before the bull could speak. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“Now, now. I wouldn’t want to rush the fun.”

Nick startled, his eyes flying open to search for the source of the female voice that had responded. Moos smirked from the doorway. Nick met the gaze of the matronly, purple eyed rabbit on the other side of the desk. His mouth went dry. 

“Where is my daughter?”


	7. Chapter 7

Judy had hardly changed into a new gown, one that was less grass and dirt stained, before the knock came at her door. 

She opened it to reveal Nick, with the hulking form of Moos standing behind him. It had been days since she had last spoken to the fox, but she spared him only a glance before realizing there was a third visitor in her doorway.

“Mom,” she breathed. 

Bonnie was not a crier, but her lip trembled slightly as she lurched forward and folded her daughter into her arms. 

“Bun bun. I’ve missed you so much.”

Judy wrapped her arms around her mother. “I--I’ve missed you too, mom.”

Nick briefly met her gaze over Bonnie’s shoulder before looking away. She could only imagine what she looked like. Shock and relief mingled with anger at seeing her mother again. Guilt surfaced, too--guilt that she would feel anything but elated to see her after so many weeks.

More than anything, she was tired. 

Moos cleared his throat. Bonnie released Judy enough to let her stand straight again. Both rabbits looked expectantly at the king. “We have some things to discuss,” he told them.

Judy dipped her head. “Of course, my lord.”

“Brother, find us a more suitable place for this conversation.”

“As you wish. This way,” Nick said, leading them through the winding halls.

Judy trailed behind the gods, her mind somewhere else entirely. Bonnie still held one of her arms, and glanced over every few steps as though making sure Judy hadn’t disappeared. 

“What’s wrong, bun bun?” the older rabbit whispered to Judy. “You’re shaking.”

Judy snapped back to herself to realize that was the case. She stilled herself and forced a small smile. “Nothing, mom. Just happy to see you.”

Bonnie beamed, patting her daughter’s paw. 

They entered a large chamber Judy had never seen before. Nick clicked his claws and the furniture was replaced with a large stone table in the center of the room. Four chairs were placed around the circular table, one much larger than the other three. 

Moos dropped into a chair while the other mammals found their own. Judy was seated across from Nick. He still would not meet her eye.

“Refreshments?” Moos asked. 

A click, and bowls of fruit and a glass of some sparkling golden fluid appeared before the king. The bull ate in silence for a few moments before addressing the others again.

“These are good. I see why the mortals are writing songs about you, little rabbit,” Moos said as he threw a strawberry into his mouth. “Bonnie, on the other hoof...they’re not your biggest fans right now.”

Judy’s gaze cut to her mother. The doe only lifted her chin in a defiant gesture. “Get to the point, Moos,” she said. 

Judy might have been impressed with her mother’s boldness if it weren’t currently threatening to have them all electrocuted. 

She relaxed slightly as Moos chuckled. He nodded to Nick. “See, brother? Feisty.”

Nick looked ill. 

“We’re here because you three have put me in a real bind. I’d like to remedy that,” the bull continued. “So here is what’s going to happen. My brother and his consort are going to stop sending food to the mortals. Bonnie, you are going to get your tail back to work and end this famine so they don’t need to send food to the mortals.” Moos paused, leveling a look at Judy. “In return, I will remove Bonnie’s ban on entering the Underworld and she can visit her daughter when she wishes.”

A cry of outrage rose from Bonnie, and the doe nearly stood in her chair. “That was  _ not  _ what I asked for! You can’t take my daughter from me and order me back to work like nothing is wrong. She’s been gone for months already. Send her back to me, or the earth stays the way it is.”

Moos was unmoved. “You dare to assume you have any sway with me? This is not a negotiation.”

“I have all the leverage I need, and you damn well know it.”

Judy noticed the first signs of agitation from the bull. His eyes narrowed slightly and his nostrils flared as he regarded her mother. 

“I need her to be here.”

“ _ No _ . Enough. Who knows what this  _ fox  _ has already done to her!” Bonnie spat the word fox with vitriol Judy had never heard from her. As she spoke, vines wound their way up from under the table, securing themselves around said fox’s wrists, pinning them hard to the table. He grimaced. Judy seethed at her mother’s insult.

“ _ Mother _ !” she admonished. “Nick has been nothing but a friend to me, I told you that in my message.”

With a wave of Judy’s paw, the vines retreated, releasing Nick. He made no acknowledgement of it, but Judy couldn’t help but grin a little at the look of surprise on Bonnie’s face. It was a moment before Bonnie spoke again. 

“As if I would trust anything that comes from this realm. For all I know he could have forced you to write that.”

Judy threw her paws over her head. This was infuriating. She tried again to catch Nick’s eye. He was staring blankly at the table in front of him--Judy couldn’t be sure he was even hearing any of this. 

She tried to compose herself. “My lord,” she addressed Moos, “I think it might benefit all of us to know where your desire for my presence in the Underworld stems from.”

The king looked mildly annoyed that she was speaking directly to him, but he answered her in a rough voice. “My wife is the goddess of marriage. My brother has been in need of a wife for some time. She has deemed this a good match, and I also approve of it. That should be enough explanation for any of you.”

“Yes, my lord. We know that Hayra has... _ evaluated _ Nick and I, but surely this is not worth the lives of thousands of mortals.”

“You still question me? Have I lost my touch?” he asked nobody in particular. “Has my authority waned?”

Judy’s ears dropped to her back. “No, my lord. I am just trying to understand.”

“Understand, then, that I am not the sole decider of every matter among gods and mortals.”

Judy was unsure what to say to that. She was unaware of anyone with more power than Moos. Desperately, she wished Nick would join the conversation. 

“I’m leaving, and my daughter is coming with me,” Bonnie declared. “Try to stop me, and see what happens,” she added, a plain threat. 

Judy’s fur stood on end as a faint current hummed in the air around them. Moos held a bolt of lightning aloft in one hoof, and it took everything she had to resist the urge to cower under the table. The king was snarling something, but the words drowned in the rush of blood pounding in Judy’s ears. 

As quickly as the current began, it was dampened by a blanket of power that seemed to weigh Judy down, pressing her into her seat. It was a strange, unfamiliar aura, yet she wasn’t afraid of it. She knew instantly that the source was Nick, though she was shocked by the darkness she felt surrounding them. The power wasn’t evil, but it was strong, and Judy sensed it could easily become something insidious given the right push. She’d only seen Nick use his abilities once, and it had felt nothing like this--she wondered what was going through his mind to fuel this kind of energy. 

Bonnie slumped back in her chair, ears drooping and eyes wide. Moos’ hoof lowered, shakily, as if not by his own will. Judy felt relatively unencumbered. When she looked at Nick, he hadn’t moved. 

A strangled whine came from Moos, and his face contorted into a mask of rage. 

Judy worried that Nick was playing too close to the fire, this time. 

“Enough,” Nick said. His voice was calm, unhurried. He kept his grip on the room. “We’re not getting anywhere with this. What you want are two incompatible things. I suggest that Ca--Judy goes home with her mother, but as my king, you do have the final say. Brother, have you actually  _ seen  _ the mortal realm recently, with your own eyes?”

“No,” Moos managed to bite out.

“Then I suggest you take a look before committing us all to this disaster of an idea. Are you amenable to doing that now, so that you are equipped with all relevant information, and allowing this conversation to continue in the morning?”

Judy thought that Moos would oppose such a request, but he nodded stiffly.

“Excellent. Then I shall see you all tomorrow. Bonnie, please feel free to stay. There are plenty of rooms available,” Nick said. With that, he was gone, the tension in the room dissipating with him.

Judy scurried out of the chamber without waiting to see Moos’ reaction. Her mother reached her paws for her as she passed, but she sidestepped the embrace. She ran through the halls to throw herself into her own room. 

Her heart was racing with fear she hadn’t felt since first arriving in the Underworld. She did not want to see her mother, not yet, and she was terrified of the king. 

Her mother would come for her, eventually, whenever she managed to find her way through the labyrinth of halls back to Judy’s chamber. She sat for what felt like nearly an hour, anticipating the knock at her door. It didn’t come. Perhaps her mother was tied up with Moos--regardless of how upset Judy was with her, she hoped that Bonnie was alright. Either way, as the evening dragged on, she slowly allowed her fear to fade. 

It was only replaced by hurt. Nick still wanted her gone. 

\-----------------------

A gnarled mass of thoughts swirled through Nick’s mind as he sat in the dark of his chamber. Moos’ voice was echoing in his head, resistant to his efforts to silence it. 

_ You are not the only one who takes orders.  _

_ I am not the sole decider of every matter among gods and mortals.  _

And, from so long ago, when he was first pushed into his position,  _ It is not my choice, brother. There are forces greater than even gods. _

Nick had hated the king then, and still hated him now whenever he had the energy to muster feelings of any kind towards the other god. But in that moment, when he had been even younger and still nursing ideas of what he might do with his life, the idea that there were unseen forces dictating his destiny was abhorrent to him. He’d been forced into the Underworld regardless, after a pitiful attempt at protest that only ended with his brothers curbing his power for decades as a punishment. He had been left with only enough to manage his realm. He’d then spent the first half century of his rule stoking an anger that promised, eventually, to drain him even further, until he twisted it enough to let it strengthen him. It was that same anger that allowed him to deal with his brother the way he had just an hour ago. 

Nick wasn’t so young now, and he’d played his part long and well enough to eventually be allowed onto Zoolympus. Once there, it was easy to learn about the entities that imposed will onto gods and mortals, though he’d never met them. 

Perhaps it was time to change that. 

Nick stopped at his office quickly before landing in the candlelit space of Carrot’s chamber, where he suspected she’d be awake. He’d rather not invade on her this way, but he hadn’t wanted to risk being seen in the hall if he knocked. There was also a good chance she’d never let him in if he tried. He materialized facing a wall, at least, in case she wasn’t decent. 

A startled intake of breath sounded behind him. He spoke before she could.

“Carrots, listen--”

“Nick, wait, I have to say--”

“No, really--”

Nick snapped his jaw shut as Carrots started laughing. He turned slowly, and his brow furrowed when he saw her smiling, ears upright as she chuckled. 

“Well, that’s definitely not the welcome I was expecting.”

“What were you expecting?”

“I don’t know, maybe a cactus to the face?”

The rabbit frowned. “Nick, I’m not angry. But if you have a good explanation for what that was--” she waved a paw in the vague direction of the meeting room they’d been in that evening “and what you’re doing here, I would appreciate it.”

Nick nodded. “I do. First, though, I should apologize. I didn’t mean those things I said to you. I was angry at myself, and the situation, and I should never have taken it out that way. He swallowed the lump rising in his throat before adding, “You are  _ so far _ from useless. I’m sorry.”

Carrots considered him in silence, her eyes boring into his. “I thought you wanted me gone.”

Ah. That’s what this was about--Nick couldn’t fault her for that, considering he’d done little to avoid giving that impression. “Not because you’re not my friend and I don’t like having you around. I just know you weren’t happy and you wanted to go home. I never asked for you,” he said. The bunny narrowed her eyes at that, but he pushed on with, “But I’m happy I got to know you. I wouldn't forgive me, if I were you. But I can’t fix this without you, and later, you can hate me all you want. I was a horrible friend, and I hurt you.”

Nick stumbled back a step as a blur of grey launched at his torso. The bunny was hugging him, a sure, hard hug unlike her first, and this time he curled an arm around her shoulders to pat her back.

“You’re such a dumb fox,” she mumbled into his chest. Nick thought she might have been fighting tears. After a moment, she released her hold around his middle enough to tilt her head back to look at him. Her eyes were indeed damp.

“You bunnies. So emotional,” he told her. She only laughed and sniffed, releasing him to scrub at her face. Then, he had to ask, to confirm, “You don’t hate me?”

She gave him a watery smile. “I don’t hate you.” She paused with her head tilted. “But what are you holding?”

Tension uncoiled in his chest. Nick gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze before stepping back to hold up the helm in his other paw. 

“This is our way onto Zoolympus.”

\-----------------------

Nick had an invisibility hat of some kind, which was news to Judy. It was useful, though, she had to admit. As long as she was touching Nick while he wore it, she was also invisible, and according to him her scent would be partially masked as well. 

She had a lot of questions.

“Won’t Moos know when we get to Zoolympus?”

“Not while he’s down here.”

“ _ Is _ he still here?”

“For now. Likely nursing his pride back to health and thinking of creative new ways to have me put in my place.”

“Has he gone to the mortal realm yet?”

“Briefly, yes. I had Clawhauser check for me.”

“How can we even get into Zoolympus?”

“I  _ am  _ a god, Carrots. It’s sort of the place to be.” Judy glared at him critically. He rolled his eyes and admitted, “There is also another entrance. One without a gatekeeper.”

That sounded more like Nick. 

“How are we getting out of the Underworld in the first place?”

“That’s a surprise. But I have a feeling you’ll like it.”

She huffed. “Fine. Explain to me why you’re so sure we need to go above.”

“I was thinking a lot about what my brother has been saying over the years. There are beings that are more powerful than even him. I say we go speak to them, plead our case, or at least see if they know something that can help us.”

“Seems risky.”

“Since when do you shy away from risk?”

Judy grinned. She had no argument for that. “Let’s go.”

Nick transported them to a place in the Underworld Judy had yet to visit. Her paw clasped his, as he was already wearing the strange helmet that flattened his ears in a manner that looked uncomfortable. She could see herself and Nick, but in a fuzzy, translucent sort of way. 

They appeared in front of a wall of black stone, same as most others in the Underworld, and she opened her mouth to ask Nick where they were. A river ran beside them, but that offered little in the way of geographic clues when it came to this place.

Her eyes widened as she realized that the wall was actually covered in part by a massive waterfall that fed the river. The stream of water wasn’t wide, but it disappeared high above them, into the seemingly limitless height of the Underworld’s cavern. Judy mused that there had to be an end somewhere, since the mortal realm was above them, though she doubted she’d ever see it.

The water of this river was dark, nearly black. The shine of moisture on the stone was the only sign that gave the falling water away, and why it had been easy for Judy to miss it at first. There was little sound to accompany the vertical stream, and the flow itself didn’t gush like the natural waterfalls she had seen in the mortal realm. The water instead trickled over the stone in a languid way, sliding itself over the eroded juts and divots of the rock wall. The more Judy looked at it, the more she thought it might have been some kind of oil. If she tilted her head the right way, the dim light caused it to sparkle just slightly, as if tiny diamonds fell with the water. It was stunning, in the way she found most things in the Underworld to be. 

“I thought the rivers just went on forever,” she whispered to Nick. 

“They do, in a way.” He paused, and when she looked over he was also studying the strange phenomenon before them. Maybe he finally saw it as beautiful, too. “Ready to go?” he asked. 

“Go where? It’s solid rock.”

“Oh, Carrots. So naive.”

Nick tugged her forward, forward, until she could feel the spray of the strange water on her face, and then forward some more, right to the base of the wall. She hesitated, closing her eyes, but Nick just pulled her along further--

The air cooled several degrees. Judy opened her eyes to see that they were on what had to be the other side of the waterfall, though when she glanced behind her there was no sign of the oily cascade. They were in another huge chamber, dark as ever. Several cave mouths lined the chamber. Even if Judy had wanted to see what was in them, there was no way to peer into the inky black. 

Looming ahead of them was the largest stone door Judy had ever seen.

Nick looked around beside her, tense. 

“What is it?” she asked. She winced as her hushed tone echoed around them. 

“He must be sleeping. Let’s keep moving.”

“He? He who?”

“Later, Fluff. Just go.”

She was half dragged across the chamber. She focused on keeping her footsteps light, certain that she wasn’t interested in meeting whoever Nick referred to. 

Nick hesitated for a moment at the door. How it would even open was a mystery--unless they were just going to walk through walls again. 

A thought occurred to Judy. “Nick, do we have to go through the mortal realm to get to Zoolympus?”

He cast a sidelong glance her way. “I think we’ll skip that stop this time.”

She nodded, a bit relieved. “I’m not sure I’m ready to see what my mother has done quite yet.”

“Fair enough.”

“What you said to Moos...have you seen what it’s like?”

“No. I had the other mammals tell me what they saw, though…”

“It’s not good,” Judy finished. Obviously it wasn’t, she knew that. She’d been dealing with mortal souls for weeks, all sent here because of her mother. Still...really accepting that was a challenge. 

“It’s not. But that’s why we’re doing this.”

Judy squeezed his paw in a silent thanks. Nick offered a grim smile and laid his other paw on the door.

Judy was blinded by light. Her eyes closed instinctively, but she felt the ground change under her feet. She forced herself to squint into the brightness, just enough to make out an ornate door made of a dark metal, much smaller than the previous one. A red paw reached for it, and once more she flung her eyes closed.

Judy’s breath was knocked from her as though she had struck a barrier. It was a flash of pain, but just as quickly the pressure was released and her chest expanded again. Nick’s paw was still in hers, so they’d both made it--she blinked the spots from her vision to take in where they were.

Nick still clenched his eyes shut beside her, his face distorted in discomfort. No wonder--it was brighter than any place Judy had ever been. He was also panting slightly, as though they’d just ran their way up the mountain. His fingers tightened painfully around hers, but she paid the grinding in her joints no mind. 

They’d made it to Zoolympus. 

Judy’s imagination had been just as wrong when it came to picturing this place as it had for the Underworld. Everything seemed to exude light--it was night, she knew, but the sky above them was still bright with the soft pinks and oranges of dawn. Mammals milled about the open space that they had appeared in, their immortal auras shining more brightly than any in the Underworld. The ground was a gleaming white marble, and the space was vast. Tall columns wrapped in every kind of flower punctuated the immediate area, while Judy could make out staircases spiralling in several directions at the edges of the...room? Courtyard? It was hard to say. The door they had come through was no longer visible on Judy’s other side, as there was no wall where they stood.

It was clear why the strange invisibility helmet was necessary. Most animals here appeared as prey, but there were a large number of them occupying the space. Judy couldn’t see a paw that was without a glass of the same golden liquid Nick had served Moos. The crowd was boisterous, many mammals swaying slightly with the soft music or laughing loudly in small groups. 

Nick had adjusted now. He scanned the room from beside her and snorted, a soft expelling of air.

Judy risked a comment, pitching her voice low. “Do  _ not  _ tell me we stumbled into a party.”

“Hardly. You’d know if we walked into one of those.”

If this wasn’t a party, Judy had a hard time thinking about what one would look like. 

“We need to move.”

“Do you know where they are? The mammals you want us to talk to?”

“Of course.”

They inched along the edge of the space until the crowd thinned, then weaved through the sparse bodies of mammals wandering back to the central gathering. Nick seemed confident in his navigation, so Judy clung to him and tried to take in her surroundings. Soon they moved from the open space with sky above them to a more structured space, with walls and a high ceiling that dampened the unnaturally bright light of the place. 

She thought that she might be able to spend a century seeing all there was to see here, from the mammals she didn’t recognize to the art on the walls to the music and plants and food. For her mother to avoid this place so ardently...the gods and goddesses that resided here full time had to be worse than Judy knew. 

They were ascending now, Nick tugging Judy up what felt like an interminable flight of stairs. She wasn’t sure how long they climbed. Her legs were burning by the time they reached the top, and she tried to keep quiet even as her lungs begged for more sustenance. 

She stopped breathing altogether when she took in the scene before them. 

They stood on one of the mountain peaks, and the view was indeed breathtaking, but Judy’s chest was seized due to fear rather than awe. 

Three mammals sat on a raised dais. The first was a sheep with wool a colour Judy had never seen before, a light apricot that faded to nearly white around her face. The second was an armadillo, and the last was the smallest, a tiny gerbil that perched on a gilded platform that raised from the dais, allowing her to be at the same height as her companions. All wore matching threadbare robes of white silk.

No auras clung to them, yet it was clear they were something more than mere immortals. 

Judy did not know that immortals could show any real signs of aging, but all three of the mammals before her were visibly ancient, stooped and withered by immeasurable time. Judy could not stand to look at their faces for more than a moment. Every eye the trio owned was pale and milky. Despite this, she had no doubt they were far from being blind. She could feel the enormity of their presence encroaching on her, and she wanted to flee. Nick’s heart thundered beside her, his pulse nearly matching her own. 

She knew who these mammals were with a sudden terrible clarity. She knew them not from stories and bits of overheard gossip, but from the immensity of their existence calling forth an understanding from some place deep and inaccessible in her own mind. 

“Welcome,” the sheep rasped. The sound sent a shudder through Judy’s spine. 

No, the Fates were not blind at all, considering Nick and Judy were still supposed to be invisible. 

The sheep had not looked up from the long line of blue thread she held in her hoof--the other mammals held the same strand. The armadillo fed a length of thread to the gerbil, who promptly bit it in two at the place it was pinched by her companion. No sooner had it severed than the thread turned black and vanished. 

Judy’s stomach rolled. 

Nick lifted off the helm with a shaky breath. He bowed low, pulling Judy down with him. “I apologize for intruding,” he said. His voice carried a sincerity that was rare for him. 

“Stand,” the armadillo commanded. 

They did so as the gerbil said, “You are late.”

Nick and Judy shared a glance. “Apologies, again. I am--” he started.

“Ask,” the sheep cut him off, dismissing his attempt at what Judy suspected would have been a wasted introduction. Another thread had appeared in her hoof, this one a shimmering gold. 

“Tell,” the armadillo added. 

“Be answered,” the gerbil finished. 

Judy stifled a sigh, despite her apprehension. This was going to be worse than speaking to the sloths. 

“We’ve come to find out what you might be able to tell us about the reason we’re being thrown together. Why Moos wants Carrots here in the Underworld,” Nick explained.

The golden thread was severed, but Judy felt less bothered by it than the first. An almost peaceful sensation washed over her for an instant before she refocused on the task. The Fates’ answer came as a round, each husky voice flowing into the next. 

“Not him.”

“The wife.”

“Early, too early.”

“Greedy.”

“Spiteful.”

“Hateful cow.”

Nick blinked, evidently comprehending as much as Judy was. “We know that Hayra told Moos that we would be a good match, but we don’t know why,” she said. “And my mother is ruining the earth. How can we stop that from continuing?”

“No stopping.”

“Only diminish.”

“‘Tis the proper course.”

“That can’t be right,” Nick said, exasperated. “Bonnie keeps the earth barren until there are no mortals left alive?”

“Cycles.”

“A pattern.”

“We saw death and rebirth.”

“Not yet.”

“That was then.”

“Now is the time.”

Judy considered this. The earth went through an oscillating pattern every year. There was a long, hot growing period, and after the harvest there was a brief time for the earth to rest before it was replanted and flourished again. Nothing died, things just went to sleep while her mother rested as well.

“You had a vision. Of the earth dying--going dormant, then springing back to life,” Judy said. Nick’s mouth gaped slightly as he looked between her and the Fates.

“Temporary.”

“Repeating.”

“Eternal heat no longer.”

“Does Hayra know about this?” Judy asked.

“Nosy cow.”

“Overheard.”

“Manipulating threads.”

“Tried.”

“Failed.”

“Still angry.”

“Forever bitter.”

_ A yes would do _ , Judy thought. “So she knows, and she tried to...speed it up? Why? What does that have to do with me?”

“Not you.”

“Life-giver.”

“The past.”

Judy turned to Nick, her mind whirring. “I think I get it,” she told him.

Nick’s green eyes were still wide as he stared at her. He lifted a finger and told her, a bit of pride in his voice, “You are a clever bunny.”

She’d have time to hold that over him later--maybe. 

“Thank you, for all your help,” Judy said, bowing to the three enigmatic mammals. 

“Your turn,” the sheep told her.

Nick immediately protested, his voice higher than usual. “No, no--we don’t--”

“Tangled threads,” the sheep continued. Nick fell silent, his ears pinned.

“Yours are.”

“But still two.”

“Always two.”

The sheep lifted her head from the thread she held for the first time since their arrival, and even without discernible irises, Judy felt the weight of her gaze settle on her. 

_ Fated, but not without choice,  _ the sheep’s grating voice sounded in her head. Judy’s mind itself seemed to itch, unsettled by the intrusion, but she bowed again. Nick placed the helmet back on his head and did the same. 

Judy knew not to respond to what had been said to her privately, so only repeated, “Thank you.” 

“Go, now,” the armadillo said.

“Do not be late again,” the gerbil added. 

The sheep raised her free hoof, and the bright mountaintop went dark.

Judy stumbled. Nick landed hard on his knees on the marble ground beside her. They had been thrust back to where they had first arrived on Zoolympus, the scene unchanged. 

Two exceptionally loud mammals walked past. Both were tall, slender mammals with long antlers. The one with spiralling antlers was shouting at the one with straight antlers. Judy recoiled at the assault on her ears. 

Nick scoffed softly from beside her as he stood, his gaze also trailing the pair. “Blares and Apronko. Real loudmouths.”

“Blares...isn’t he with Giraffrodite? Clawhauser mentioned it once. He seemed to think she could do better.”

“Giraffrodite might think so too, once she catches wind of that,” Nick said, nodding towards the backs of the retreating pair. Their argument was still very audible at a distance, though Judy didn’t detect any real malice in it. 

Judy smiled. She didn’t think Nick would care for her to show her affection by bellowing at him to be quiet, but she couldn’t rightly judge.

“Let’s get home,” she said, squeezing Nick’s paw gently. 

Nick guided them back to the Underworld without a word. 

\-----------------------

Carrots boxed his arm and bounced on her toes around his chamber before he’d even had a chance to steady his feet under himself. They’d managed to slip back through the exit without waking the gatekeeper there, which Nick was thankful for. That would be an interesting introduction--at another time. As it was, they had only a couple of hours before they needed to meet with his brother and Bonnie again.

The bunny was bouncing on her toes. “Nick, do you know what this means?”

_ She called it home.  _

“Uh, what does what mean?”

_ Does she still want to leave? _

“What the Fates said!”

_ Focus, Nick. _

“You’re the translator, Carrots. That conversation was a blank for me.”

She lurched to a stop in front of him and gripped his paws, looking up at him with bright violet eyes. 

“They told us that Hayra found out about what the Fates saw, and that she’s spiteful for something in the past that involved my mother. Hayra’s not doing this because of us, not exactly. Moos is a pawn, and we’re pawns too, if we let ourselves be--she’s upset about whatever happened between her and my mom. She must be using the fated vision as an excuse for whatever she’s doing, somehow.”

Nick mulled this over for a moment. He’d never put it past his brother’s wife to be extraordinarily petty, but this was extreme, if true. “Okay, fine. Say that’s the case--we still don’t know what the problem was. And what was all that talk about cycles?”

Carrots frowned. “I think that what is happening now in the mortal realm was always _ supposed  _ to happen, just not on this scale.”

“How can we know for sure?”

“Well, we’re meeting with my mother and Moos soon. Assuming they haven’t destroyed each other yet. I’ll just ask them. My mother won’t lie to me.”

Nick only barely resisted pointing out that her mother’s dubious morality was exactly the issue at paw, and that she probably wouldn’t consider lying to her daughter to be an uncrossable line. 

“Sure. We’ll do that. Why don’t you get some rest first. I’ll take you back to your room.”

The bunny just frowned at him and crossed her arms. “Why didn’t you want to hear about your fate?” she asked.

Nick’s jaw worked while he searched for an answer. He settled on the honest one, letting some of his latent anger seep into his tone. “I hate the idea that there’s a grand plan out there for me, some ruling that determines what my life will be like. I’d rather pretend that I have a choice in the matter.”

“Nick, you always have a choice.”

“Not with those three sitting up on their mountain holding my thread, I don’t.”

“You do, though. I know it. We all do. Just because there might be an endpoint for each of us, and maybe some predetermined stops on the way, that doesn’t mean we can’t decide how we get there. You heard them--even Hayra managed to move the timeline of a vision up. Nothing is entirely decided.”

She made a strong argument, and while Nick didn’t share her conviction, he was too tired to debate the existence of a grand cosmic design. “You might be right.”

She seemed satisfied with that for now. Later, when this mess was sorted, he’d be sure to ask her more about her ideas, if only to listen to her talk so excitedly about something again. 

He yawned widely, his eyelids drooping. It took more energy than he cared for to make the trip to Zoolympus. Especially in secret. Using the front door tended to be easier.

“Bedtime, oh mighty Lord of the Underworld,” Carrots said, steering him by an elbow to his bed. 

“No, let me take you to your room first,” he protested.

“I’ll just stay here. It’s not long until dawn, and I don’t want to see my mother right now anyways.”

She was already climbing into his bed like it was the most natural thing in the world. 

_ Tangled threads. _

Possibly it was the most natural thing, but that didn’t mean he had to--

The bunny yanked him down to the mattress, surprisingly strong for her size. “Sleep,” she said, voice stern. In seconds, he did.

\-----------------------

Judy woke alone, one leg dangling over the edge of the large bed.

She lifted her head, lingering grogginess cleared by anxiety as she remembered what they were about to do.

“Nick?” she called. 

“Just a second, Carrots,” his voice came from around the corner, from the bathing chamber. She crawled to the other side of the bed and sat up, wiping sleep from her eyes. 

A moment later Nick stepped into view, and she gaped. He had forgone his usual plain tunic for an olive coloured one with ferns decorating it to match the carving on his office door. It was undoubtedly one of the ugliest garments she had ever seen on a mammal. She simultaneously hated it and thought that this moment was the most  _ him  _ he had ever looked. 

"What are you wearing?"

"You're seeing the professional Lord of the Underworld today, Carrots." Nick smiled and leaned close to her. "Like it?"

Her nose wrinkled, and she opted not to answer. Nick laughed. "Yeah, neither does my brother. I wear it to annoy him."

"It suits you."

He was already moving away, ready to go. She reached out to stop him with a paw on his arm. He raised a brow at her expectantly, but she didn’t have anything to say. She didn’t know  _ how  _ to say what she felt. How to say that they hadn’t had time to figure things out between them, not really, and that they needed to talk about the last piece of what the Fates had said. She didn’t know how to say that she was happy to have met him, too, and that he was already her best friend and something more, and that she was afraid of what was going to happen when they left this room.

She made a choice. Instead of saying anything, she stood and kissed him.

He didn’t pull away, which was all the encouragement she needed to reach her paws around the back of his neck to pull him closer. He was still for an instant before seeming to decide to accept it, and his paws slid to her waist to anchor her to him.

It was awkward and fumbling for a moment until they found a rhythm in how their muzzles fit together, but an imperfect kiss seemed appropriate for them, Judy thought. Soon warmth was coursing through her, and she stood on her toes to get even closer to Nick. 

He pulled away, gently, after a minute. A small whine escaped from her. He only chuckled. 

“I’d have worn the shirt earlier if I knew that’s the reaction it would get,” he teased.

Judy rolled her eyes and swatted his arm. “It definitely wasn’t the shirt.”

Nick kissed her again, quick and chaste, before taking a step back and releasing a breath. 

“We’d better go now, or I won’t go at all,” he said. Judy’s ears heated at the implication, but she wasn’t embarrassed. “Need to change?”

Judy smoothed down the wrinkled front of her gown. “Yes, if we have time. Best not to offend your brother with both of our outfits.”

Nick sent them to her chamber and she was washed and dressed within minutes. Nick waited by the door. He smiled and took her paw as she approached. 

That was a mistake.

Bonnie had remembered where Judy’s chamber was, and by the looks of the older rabbit, had waited outside of it for most of the night. The doe did not take the sight of her daughter walking out with a fox first thing in the morning very well. At all.

The door hadn’t even closed behind them before Nick was whipped down the hall, landing on the stone with a hard crack. Vines circled Judy’s waist to drag her in the other direction. Bonnie stood with outstretched paws in the center, a wrathful expression on her muzzle as she directed a torrent of large, serrated-edged leaves at Nick’s face. Most he batted away, but several caught him, leaving thin trails of blood to well up through the cream fur of his muzzle and neck. 

Judy shouted for her mother to stop. It was a moment before she could untangle herself from her own mass of vines. By the time she had, Bonnie stood over Nick. A prison of thorns erupted from the ground, effectively pinning him in place. Small thorns burst from the larger shoots, creeping closer to him on all sides. He’d be impaled if he moved. 

“Mom, stop!” Judy yelled again, now at her mother’s side. Bonnie was breathing hard, and several thorns grew long enough to jab at Nick. He winced. 

Judy knew he could  _ probably  _ get out if he wanted to, but he only gave her a look as if to ask her to deal with this. She tugged at her mother’s arm. “Mom, whatever you think happened, that’s not what’s going on here.” 

Nick smirked. Judy glared at him, willing him to keep quiet. Honestly, it was like the fox wanted to antagonize her mother. 

Hoofs clacked on the stone. “Has our meeting started already?” Moos drawled from behind them. 

Judy glanced at him, unsurprised to see a smug look plastered on his face. Naturally he’d be enjoying himself. 

“ _ Mom _ ,” Judy hissed into the other rabbit’s ear, “Enough already. Calm down and we can talk.”

“We certainly will,” her mother snapped back. The vines and thorns retreated slowly. Judy waved her paws to speed them along, earning another glare from her mother. She ignored it and moved to Nick’s side. She reached to help him up, but he caught her eye and shook his head slightly. She kept her paws to herself. 

The three mammals stood and faced Moos, who leaned on a crumbling wall with his arms crossed. He gave Bonnie an appraising look that made Judy feel ill.

“Been a while since you pulled out those moves, Bonnie. Care to show me again, once this unsavoury matter has been settled?”

Bonnie snorted. “You would like that, wouldn’t you, Moos. I forgot how much threatening to castrate you got things going.”

“What in the name of the gods is happening,” Nick whispered in her ear. 

Judy wished she could unhear the past half minute of conversation. “I have no idea,” she croaked. 

Moos smirked. “Alright, should we get this over with?”

“I’m done talking to you and that _fox_. We’re finished.” Bonnie raised a paw, roots cascading from the ceiling to shoot towards the bull as he lifted his lightning. 

Judy stepped forward, shouting, “Stop! Wait, we can talk--”

Nick yanked her back. The king of the gods snapped Bonnie's roots, the thick smell of charred wood filling the corridor. Bonnie sent more vines, but Moos parried them. The dueling Zoolympians ignored her protests, and the complex was going to be dust around them in short order. 

“Do something!” she pleaded with Nick.

“Carrots, it would take a miracle to stop my brother when he’s like this.”

A crack of electricity leapt from Moos towards her mother. Judy screamed. The noise was lost in a boom of thunder as the bolt fizzled out before striking its target. 

Another figure stood in the hall.

“Tsk. What a mess. I always do miss the good bits. Isn’t that right,  _ darling _ ?” Hayra asked.

All motion ceased as four pairs of eyes leveled on the cow. Judy hated the traitorous part of her brain that reveled again at the queen’s beauty, even as her face was twisted in a disturbing mimicry of a polite smile. 

“Well, hallelujah.”


	8. Chapter 8

The moment of stunned silence ended quickly. Hayra flicked a hoof and Bonnie was pinned in place, the doe’s struggles doing little against the hold. Judy had not felt the queen use her power before and she was shocked at the warmth of it. It was a gentle sort of caress, in contrast to her husband’s brute strength and Nick’s stealthy, dark power. 

It was clear Moos had been holding back in his altercation with Bonnie, for Hayra to win so easily. Judy didn’t know what to make of that. Her mother wasn’t lacking in her own power, which had to mean the cow was stronger than expected. 

Moos gaped at his wife while Bonnie and Hayra shared a murderous glare. Judy looked over at Nick as he tugged at her elbow. At some point he’d healed the cuts on his face, and his shirt was back intact. 

“I think this may be our cue to back away slowly,” Nick whispered. 

She rolled her eyes at him and stepped away from his hold. 

“My lady,” she said, offering a deep bow to Hayra even as her muscles fought the action, “Might we move this conversation to a better venue?”

“This venue is just fine, bunny,” Hayra spat. She didn’t bother to spare Judy a glance. 

“Now, dear, the rabbit has a point,” Moos interjected. He seemed genuinely shaken at his wife’s appearance, and his voice usually smug tone wavered slightly.

“You  _ would  _ take her side,” Hayra snarled. 

“Not that I have any love for the decor around here, but it takes a while to contract decent builders for repairs. I suggest we relocate to the fields, if you’d be so kind,” Nick said. Judy gave him a grateful smile.

“Sounds like a grand idea, brother,” Moos said. 

Bonnie and Hayra continued to glare at one another. 

“No,” Hayra said after a moment. 

“My lady?” Nick inquired. 

“Neutral ground. The mortal realm.”

Nick hesitated, but Moos nodded. Judy felt the pressure of Hayra’s power retreat, and her mother stretched a leg. Moos appeared to take this as a signal, and suddenly Judy was struggling against the now-familiar feeling of the air being crushed from her body as they moved between realms.

Within moments, the group stood in the familiar fields of the mortal realm. 

Except it was all wrong. What should have been the bountiful meadows of Judy’s life before the Underworld were nearly unrecognizable. Judy gasped as she took in the scene around her. Her mother hadn’t just neglected the earth, she’d ravaged it. Nick had said it was not good--but this was beyond  _ not good _ . 

There was no living plant matter. Colour was sapped from the earth, everything cast in a leeched brown hue. The soil was parched, stretching out like a desert around them, and dead trees were entirely barren of foliage. Branches littered the earth at the base of their trunks. In other places Judy could make out massive rock cuts that had erupted from the ground like jagged teeth from the soil. Random patches of thick mud glistened in the overcast light--the skies could rain all they liked, but it would do little good if Bonnie didn’t permit the earth to use it. There was no wonder the mortals were dying so rapidly.

Judy was the first to speak, anger bubbling up in her chest. “Mom, how could you?”

“They took you away from me, bun bun,” her mother replied. 

“I know, mom, but this…”

“We have bigger issues,” Hayra cut in.

“You’re right, we do. Let’s start with how  _ you  _ caused this, Hayra,” Judy said, turning on the cow. 

“Fingers are being pointed in the wrong direction, fuzzy bunny.”

“Uh, not quite.” That was Nick. Judy whirled as he stepped up from behind her. “We had a chat with some of our friends up top.”

Moos reacted faster than Judy thought possible--the air cracked and Nick was thrown back hard, his fur standing on end from the shock. Judy shouted and ran in his direction, but roots--dehydrated husks of what the fields once housed--encased her. At least she could see Nick getting up. He looked relatively unharmed, but angry.

Moos bellowed several creative curses followed by, “You went to Zoolympus without permission?”

“You’re lucky we did, brother. Found out a few interesting things about your wife, here,” Nick said. Judy was relieved to find his voice was steady. 

“Shut up, fox,” Bonnie said. 

“For once, I agree with the rabbit,” Hayra added.

Judy looked to her mother. She was tired of arguing with her. “Let me go, please.” 

Bonnie ignored her. Judy ground her teeth. 

“Hayra, the Fates told us that you used a vision to start this. You didn’t care how many mortals died--you just wanted to get back at my mother,” Judy said, lifted her chin to meet the cow’s eyes. 

Judy’s ears heated with rage as Moos  _ laughed _ . “That vision said that the mortals would suffer eternally if there wasn’t an appeasement to the Underworld.”

“Appeasement? What the hell?” Nick asked, indignant. 

“Hayra heard the Fates. The mortal realm was set to be devastated unless we sent the bunny there. Your resentment was going to spill over.”

“I was resentful, but my job description is making sure mortals are well taken care of when they die, not  _ killing  _ them! As for devastation, what do you call  _ this _ ?” Nick shouted, arms wide to indicate the mess around them. “The Underworld has no bearing on what happens here, and you know it.”

“The Fates don’t lie,” Moos said simply. He was a pawn, Judy knew, but the bull was just as much at fault for his own stupidity.

“The Fates don’t lie, but goddesses do,” Judy said. “Hayra heard a vision that she knew she could twist to her advantage. This was never supposed to happen. At least, not the way it did.”

Moos waved a hoof at her dismissively. “Dear, tell them, please.”

“Tell them what? That my husband can’t be faithful for longer than a fortnight, and I’m sick of it?” Hayra snapped. 

Moos looked startled as he listened to his wife, slack jawed and confused. Nick snorted. It sounded too amused for the situation, and Judy mouthed at him to be quiet. 

“That was decades ago,” Bonnie said. Her voice was quiet, so quiet. Judy nearly had to strain to hear. “That was so long ago, and you thought that kidnapping my daughter and handing her over to a  _ fox  _ would be the way to get revenge?”

“You took something of mine, I took something of yours,” Hayra said, almost nonchalant. Judy prided herself on being able to see the best in mammals, but there was no mistake she hated the queen in that moment. 

“I didn’t  _ take  _ anything, you bitch!” Bonnie shrieked. “He sure as hell didn’t look like  _ that  _ when he came to me. I had no idea until far later.”

Moos was looking frantically between the two goddesses. “Let’s just stay calm…”

“Too late for that, brother,” Nick said. His ears were pinned, any amusement gone from his posture. 

“Mom? What happened, exactly?”

“There’s not much to tell. Your father was away. He was always gone for such long periods, and I got so lonely. That was before you came along. Once, during one of your father’s trips, Moos came to the mortal realm--I didn’t know who he was, of course, and he looked like another rabbit at the time. I cut things off as soon as I knew your father was returning and it wasn’t until years later I realized who he was.”

“You had fun while it lasted, right?” Moos had the gall to ask. All four other mammals sent a glare his way. 

“Shut it, Moos,” Nick said. 

Judy wished that she had a gag reflex, if only to be able to relieve the unease that settled in her gut. 

Decades ago. Judy was twenty-four.

“Mom, when was this? Exactly.”

Nick looked over sharply. She didn’t meet his gaze.

“Twenty-five years ago, I think.”

Judy slumped into the hold of the roots still wrapped around her. Her world had been shattered in nearly every way over the past months, and just when she felt it was being put back together, it broke again. Talking continued around her, the voices escalating. Nick’s was among them, but she registered little until fighting started again.

Bonnie struck first, lashing out at Hayra with a flurry of desiccated things that were flung from under the dry earth. Dust billowed, obscuring the field. Hayra responded in kind with her strange, warm power. Nick took the opportunity and was at Judy’s side, claws scrabbling to pull her free from her bindings. 

“Little help, Carrots? This is sort of your department.”

Hollowly, she summoned enough power to let the roots fall from her. She took in the battle with Nick at her side--neither of the gods made a move to intercept it, and Judy wasn’t arrogant enough to attempt it herself. Her mother could handle herself, now. Even if it looked like she was about to be summarily beaten. She turned to Moos instead.

“Are you pleased with yourself?”

The king actually had the good sense to look cowed. “I’ve been more pleased,” he said slowly.

Nick curled a paw around Judy’s. She shook it off. Her mother had just managed to send Hayra tumbling against a boulder, and was readying another attack when she froze.

Judy followed her gaze and sucked in a breath. 

Her ears picked up a familiar voice as a small figure crested over the horizon in the direction of the burrow she shared with her mother. Judy’s heart slammed in her chest as she made out two ears and the silhouette of a stout body.

Bonnie’s face wore an incredulous expression. “ _ Stu _ ?” she said, at the same time Judy breathed, “Dad.”

Judy’s head whipped around as she felt Hayra’s power cresting towards her mother. She lifted the roots around her to counter, but to her shock, Moos stopped his wife with a bolt of lightning. Hayra dropped, smoke rising from her skin even as she rose. Nick assisted with a steady stream of shadow that forced her back down to the ground. Hayra struggled, her eyes wide with rage, but she made little progress in moving. 

Stu drew closer to the group, wheezing as he braced his paws on his knees and surveyed them. He was still plump, though slightly less padded than usual. He took in the godly domestic scene unfolding in front of him with mild curiosity. “Well, what’s this all about, Bon?”

“ _ Stu _ ?” Bonnie repeated, mouth agape.

Judy launched into motion, throwing herself into her father’s arms. He stumbled a bit, but chuckled as he righted them and returned the hug. “Dad, what are you doing here?”

“I saw what was happening over on the islands and tried to get back here as fast as I could. Took a lot longer than I hoped, on account of the workers dying and whatnot.”

“It’s been interesting,” Nick agreed.

Stu chuckled again before turning to his wife. “What’s going on, Bon? Why aren’tcha being one with the soil?”

Judy sighed affectionately. Leave it to her dad to fail to read a room--or field. “You’ve missed...a lot,” she said.

“Like your wife running around behind your back,” Hayra bit out.

“As if your husband is any better,” Bonnie shot back. 

Stu’s next laugh was decidedly less comfortable. “Oh sure, but that’s all water under the bridge. Or it will be, once we fill those streams again, eh Bon?”

“You knew about that?” Judy asked, surprised. Her parents had always seemed so happy together, when they were in the same place. 

“Yup. But what’s to be done now? I love yer mother, that’s what there is to it.”

Nick blinked rapidly at the brown rabbit, while Moos continued to stare at his wife. Judy, for all that was tumbling through her head right now, thought it was a sweet sentiment. Even if her mother didn’t really deserve that much devotion.

“Dad, we need to get you caught up.”

“Sure thing, Jude.”

“Are we done with trying to maim each other?” Nick asked. His voice was slightly strained. Judy saw that he was still holding Hayra down as she struggled against his power. 

Moos spoke for the first time since Stu’s arrival, his eyes still trained on the furious cow. “I’ll take care of this. The rest of you, go.”

The bovine pair disappeared in a flurry of sparks and a clap of thunder that had Judy’s ears ringing. Bonnie brushed herself off after a moment of silence to stand closer to her daughter. Judy didn’t miss the pointed glare she shot toward Nick.

“Mom,” she warned. “You really don’t have a leg to stand on right now.” 

Bonnie scoffed. “We still need to talk about this.”

“Later, mom.” She turned to her father, surprised to find tears pricking at her eyes when she looked at him. He’d been gone plenty when she was growing up, but she couldn’t have asked for a better dad than him. To think that there was a very real chance that he wasn’t her father--it would never change how she felt about him, but it would be devastating. “Dad, how...how can you be okay with this?”

“With what?”

“With me maybe not...you know, because of mom and Moos...I might--”

Stu laughed, tipping his head back in a hearty chuckle. Judy blinked. “Don’t worry Jude, multiplication isn’t the only math yer dad can do. I can add just fine, and I know I’m your father.”

“Well I could have told you that,” Bonnie added, annoyed.

“ _ Thank the gods _ ,” Nick said from beside them. Judy was inclined to agree, though she wasn’t feeling ready to thank anyone with ties to Zoolympus for some time yet. 

She was elated, but there would be time to deal with her emotional whiplash later. She turned to Bonnie. “Mom, you need to return the earth’s fertility. Too many mammals have died. This was never the way to handle me going away.”

“I didn’t mean to let it get this far,” Bonnie said. “I was so angry at first, then just...sad. I saw what was happening and I couldn’t bring it back. I tried. It didn’t  _ work _ .”

So her mother  _ had  _ tried, and couldn’t reverse the damage. Judy’s eyes burned. “You have to figure out how to fix it, mom.”

“I’m still so angry, bun bun.”

“I was, too, at first. But you have to trust that I can handle myself. And I’ve had help.” Judy gave Nick a small smile over her shoulder. 

Bonnie’s face darkened. “I meant what I said. The earth can grow all it wants again when you’re back with me, where you belong.”

“Maybe I can help, mom. Maybe--”

“The only help I need is you getting out of that wretched, fox-infested place.”

“Now Bon, she might just want to try something else, for a bit,” Stu cut in diplomatically.

“She’s not trying anything outside of these fields,” Bonnie snapped. 

Judy stepped back, bumping into the solid comfort of Nick’s chest. “I--I need to think, mom.”

“What is there to think about? This is your home.”

_ Not without choice.  _

_ Cycles.  _

“I need to think,” she said again, more firmly. Her mother’s eyes blew wide again, but Judy grasped Nick’s paw and hoped he understood. He did. 

She landed hard on dark marble, heaving for breath. She felt exhausted, but tension strummed through her and made her want to  _ do  _ something. 

Nick pulled her up with a paw under her elbow. “You okay?” he asked. 

“Not really,” she answered truthfully. She glanced around--they’d arrived in the strange antechamber behind the oily waterfall, with dark caves lining the space. “Why are we here?”

“I prefer to take the doors in and out of the Underworld. Your mother is still banned--if we took a shortcut, she could tag along. This way, she won’t bother us until Moos returns and brings her.”

“Makes sense.”

Nick nodded, a small jerk of his chin. “I need you to just stay calm for a few minutes longer.”

Judy straightened. Nick was tense, still keeping a tight grip on her arm. “Are  _ you  _ okay?”

“Never better. But we have company.” 

Judy followed his gaze to where it was fixed on a cave to their side. She couldn’t see anything past the opening, but a gentle snuffling noise was drifting over to her, like a mammal smelling something intently. A very large mammal. 

She’d barely opened her mouth to comment before the biggest timber wolf she’d ever seen came charging towards them, its excessive number of teeth bared in a warning snarl. Nick stood very still, his grip painful on her elbow. It was the only reason she resisted the overwhelming urge to run and hide. 

The wolf had a massive grey body, moving on all fours, but the strangest feature was the three heads branching from its thick neck. The center head, a white-furred wolf face that was snarling loudly, was flanked by two dark brown faces, each set in matching expressions of wary hostility. Judy made out the lashing of three tails to match the heads. If she looked closely at the icy blue eyes in each face, she could detect a whorling mist in each eye that matched the languid current of the Underworld’s main river. She dropped her gaze quickly to avoid presenting herself antagonistically.

So  _ this  _ was a monster. Judy had heard of the like--massive beasts that were not quite mammals, but certainly immortal, and dangerous even to gods. The question was why did Nick have one at the Underworld’s backdoor?

Nick’s ears were pinned, but he only watched the wolf--wolves?--as it bore over the fox and rabbit pair. As if hearing her thoughts, he murmured, “He guards the door. We used to have a problem of souls trying to sneak out this way--usually when someone up top got the bright idea to have a mortal or half-mortal prove their worth with some ridiculous task or other.”

“But we’re fine, right?”

“Oh, definitely. He just needs a second to get a feel for us. Usually I can avoid him.”

Judy watched the wolf. He made no move to eat them, which seemed like a good sign. “Does he have a name?”

“He’s not a pet, Carrots.”

Judy turned and pulled her arm from Nick, appalled. “Nick! He should have a name! Look at him, he clearly works as hard as anyone else down here.”

The creature’s middle head tilted, as if listening. The snarling diminished. 

“You are not making friends here,” Nick warned. 

Judy disagreed. She turned back to the massive wolf, daring to meet the gaze of the center head again. His eyes were alert, if mildly off putting, and she spoke softly while keeping eye contact. 

“Do you want a name?” A tail wagged. She spun again, triumphant. “See, Nick? What should we name him?”

“I am not entertaining this.”

Judy  _ hmphed _ , a foot tapping as she thought. “Gary?”

The center head whined a little, and the creature lowered itself to rest a chin on its enormous front paws. 

“I think he likes it,” she said. Nick grumbled something unintelligible. “Maybe they all need one? You can be Larry,” she said, turning to the right head, then the left, “and you--” 

The white wolf’s enormous tongue shot out to catch her side. She giggled. “Nice to meet you, Gary. Does the bad fox keep you locked up down here all the time?”

The wolf whined again, a high pitched noise that cut right to Judy’s heart. 

“Hey! I do not.”

“Poor Gary,” Judy said again. She stepped forward, and when the wolf made no move to devour her, tentatively laid a paw on the top of his white muzzle. A tail thumped gently. Judy turned to smile at Nick. He only gaped at her, green eyes wide and jaw hanging open. 

Judy moved to scratch at the base of a pointed ear, and Gary huffed in appreciation. She gave the wolf a final pat before whispering into an ear, “I’ll see if I can get him to let you have some time out of here.”

Gary scrambled upright, tongue lolling. Then the white head lifted and let out a short howl. 

“Not this,” Nick muttered. The other heads joined in, excited howls echoing around them in a crescendo that had Judy’s ears ringing again. She smiled through it.

“I’ll be back, buddy,” Judy assured the creature. 

Nick shook his head and grabbed her paw, tugging her toward the wall that held the waterfall on the other side. 

\------------------------------------

Nick himself had always opted to avoid his lupine gatekeeper, largely because while he in theory had authority over the creature, he’d always felt the beast would eat him in an instant if it could. Carrots had not only named the gatekeeping beast, but promised it time off. Typical. This was a partnership that made Nick nervous.

The moment they were through the waterfall, Nick transported them to his chambers. The bunny threw herself on his bed promptly, burying herself in the pillows until she looked like a pile of cushions with ears. 

He felt suddenly awkward--he was relieved, no doubt, that Moos was not Judy’s father. Even if the web of his own relationship with the other god was murky, it was best that there was no confusion there--but if Moos did manage to wrangle Hayra, Judy could go home.

She could leave. She was  _ leaving _ . 

Nick cleared his throat. “So, this was an exciting day,” he said, lamely. 

A muffled response came from the bunny-pillow hybrid. 

“You get to go home, now,” he said, not bothering to ask for clarification.

A pillow flung itself at his face. Carrots sat up, glaring at him.

“What is it?”

“You still think that’s what I want?” she asked, paws flung over her head. 

Nick blinked. “Well, yes. Obviously.”

Judy threw herself back with a groan. “You are  _ such  _ a dumb fox.”

It wasn’t an unfair assessment. He was pretty confused. “You don’t want to go home?” he tried.

“Of course I do!”

_ Rabbits _ . Nick sighed. “Gonna need you to give me more than that to work with, Carrots.”

“I do want to go home, I do.”

Nick ground out his next words. “Then you should.”

Carrots scrambled back upright, moving on her knees across the mattress until she was nose to nose with him. “I also want to stay here, though. I don’t know, Nick!”

Nick was getting lost in violet eyes, even as she cast her gaze around the room. “Carrots, your mom needs you. The mortals need you. Now more than ever.”

Her eyes met his, and Nick’s mouth went dry. “You need me too, Nick,” she said softly, reaching up to stroke the side of his neck. “And that’s not all. I want to be here. I like what I do, and it makes a real difference. My mom never really needed me--she loves me, I know, but she also doesn’t want to be lonely. But by keeping me sheltered the way she did,  _ I  _ was lonely. I didn’t have any freedom. I have that here.”

“What are you proposing?”

She spoke slowly, explaining it as the thoughts formed. “The Fates talked about cycles. The earth is meant to have a rest period, without my mother tending it. A new season, of sorts. I think that’s when I can be down here full time. The rest of the time, I can spend in the mortal realm, or come and go as I please. Be wherever I’m needed more.”

“Bonnie’s not going to go for that, Carrots. She’ll hide you away the moment you set foot back in the mortal realm. You’re strong, but not stronger than her yet.”

“The Fates also said that you and I have tangled threads,” she said carefully. 

Nick flinched a little. They hadn’t spoken about that. “Carrots...I hate that I might feel the way I do about you just because of those old crones.”

She tilted her head. “Do you think that’s the case?”

Nick thought for a moment. If they were never fated to meet and had only done so by chance, would Nick have loved the bunny? She was smart, and tenacious, and unintentionally funny. He respected her drive to do better, be better. She pushed him, something he hadn’t known he needed. Anything he didn’t know about her he was excited to learn, and each time he was in her presence he felt safe and cared for. 

“No, I think you’d have won me over eventually,” he smiled. 

Carrots grinned back at him, her paws sliding up to cradle his muzzle. “Me too. They also said that our threads were still two. We’re our own mammals, Nick. I don’t want to change you and you don’t want to change me.” Her smile broadened as Nick shook his head fervently. “Exactly. We still have choices to make.”

Nick swallowed a lump in his throat as she paused. Her nose wrinkled as she thought hard again. He kept silent. He couldn’t influence this decision. 

Her voice was resolute when she spoke. “I want assurance that I can be with you, here, and in the mortal realm with my mother when she needs me.”

Never, when his brother first showed him a grey rabbit in a sunny field, would Nick have imagined she'd be his ideal match.  Nick didn’t trust himself to speak, so he surged forward to kiss his bunny. She smiled against his muzzle.

He pulled back after a moment, her paws still clasped behind his neck. Nick clicked his claws, never breaking eye contact with her. Her eyes flicked down to his paw. 

He held up a blueberry, and she smiled. 

“Hungry?” he asked with a smirk.

Carrots shrugged with an eyebrow raised. “I could eat.”

She plucked the blueberry from him and tossed it into her mouth without hesitation. “I do make delicious fruit,” she remarked. 

Nick beamed and folded her into a tight hug. 

\------------------------------------

“Don’t let ‘em see that they get to you, Carrots,” Nick whispered from the corner of his mouth.

Judy squeezed his paw. They’d had only hours before Finnick was banging on the door of Nick’s chamber. He’d told them--in terms that had Judy’s ears heating, despite the small fox’s accuracy--to wrap up what they were doing, as Moos was back. 

They rounded the corner into a room that hadn’t been destroyed by their earlier meeting, and Judy immediately took in the table surrounded by Moos, her mother and father, and--

“Hecat!” she exclaimed, running forward to catch the polecat in a hug. 

“Judy!” Hecat greeted, returning the embrace. 

Judy nearly bounced in place. She’d always been close with her mother’s friend, but it had been a long time since she’d seen her. “What are you doing here?”

Hecat cast a look back at Bonnie. “Moral support,” she shrugged. Judy’s stomach dropped at the reminder about what she was about to do to her mother. 

Nick stepped up to her side, and Judy slid an arm around his waist. Hecat raised a brow at the contact. Nick shifted slightly, tucking his tail between his legs as though it needed protecting. The polecat smirked. Judy would have to ask about  _ that  _ later. 

“Let’s get on with this,” Moos said, imperial as ever.

“In a rush to get home to the missus?” Nick asked as they sat. 

The bull scowled. “Hayra and I will be taking some amiable time apart. She is temporarily confined to the islands.”

“Got to cool off after a spat, that’s the best way,” Stu nodded sagely. 

Moos rolled his eyes and Nick barely suppressed a snicker. 

“Oh, you would be pleased, fox,” Bonnie snapped. 

“Extremely,” he said, with grave seriousness. Judy elbowed his ribs.

She turned to her mother, blocking out the others. “Mom, this is what’s happening. I’m going to split time between the Underworld and the mortal realm. I’ll help you as much as you need during the growing season, and when I’m here, you can take a vacation while the earth rests. Maybe with dad. You know, spend more time together?”

“Absolutely not. You’re coming home.”

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

“No, mom. This isn’t your decision.”

“I’m your  _ mother-- _ ”

“And I ate something from the Underworld!” Judy half-shouted, exasperated. She hadn’t wanted to pull that card, had hoped that her mother would finally  _ listen  _ to her, but it was no use. 

Silence descended. Moos gaped, and even Hecat looked concerned. 

Bonnie glared at Nick with renewed fury. “What did you do?”

“Mom, this has nothing to do with him.” It was Nick’s turn to elbow her side, but she carried on. She knew he wasn’t actually offended. “It’s my choice. I can do a lot of good here. I  _ do  _ a lot of good here. You need to let me live my own life.”

“You can live your own life at home, with me. Is it about visiting different places? We can do that, sometime,” Bonnie said. She turned to Moos, “Undo it! Undo whatever the fox did to her.” An edge of desperation had crept into her voice, and Judy’s chest tightened. She leaned over the table to clasp her mother’s paw. 

Moos shook his head. “I can’t.”

“You have to!” Bonnie was nearly shrieking now. Judy gripped her mom’s paw harder with both of her own. 

“Mom, I love you. I’m not doing this to hurt you, and I’m not leaving forever.”

“But--”

“Enough, mom. This was my decision, and only mine. It should have been that way from the start.”

Her mother searched Judy’s eyes for a long moment before the other doe’s face softened almost imperceptibly. “You don’t have to settle for this, bun bun,” she said, with a flick of her eyes toward Nick.

“Settling isn’t all bad,” Stu mumbled, his voice thick. 

“I’d be settling if I went back to the way things were before,” Judy said firmly.

There was another long moment before her mother said softly, “If it’s what you really want, bun.”

Moos cut in with an impatient tone. “So the bunny stays. Which is what I--your  _ king _ \--wanted in the first place, I’d like to remind everyone. Are we done here? Can we all get back to our jobs?”

“Lift the ban on Bonnie and Hecat being in the Underworld, and you can go,” Nick said. His patience was wearing thin. 

Moos waved a hoof, then disappeared with a pop.

“Finally,” Nick muttered.

Judy’s father was bawling now. “Come on Stu, keep it together,” Bonnie admonished, without real heat. Judy detected a bit of a waver in her mother’s voice.

“I’ll stay with Jude,” Hecat declared. Her small paws were fisted on the tabletop as she watched Judy’s parents. 

“You don’t need to do that,” Judy said slowly. 

“No, but part of my job used to be helping out with the souls down here. I’ve been away for a long time, but you could use the extra paws and I can let Bonnie know how things are going while she’s busy,” Hecat said, her decision already made. She shot a feral grin at Nick. “Beside, it gives me a chance to get reacquainted with your new beau here. We go  _ way  _ back, but it’s been too long.”

Nick swallowed audibly beside Judy. “Sounds wonderful,” he said in a tight voice. 

Judy offered a more genuine thanks. “I’d love that, Hecat. And I’ll come visit the mortal realm as much as I can.”

Nick nodded his agreement. “Anytime she wants. As if I could stop her, anyways,” he said, with an affectionate glance at Judy. She appreciated his effort to ease her parents’ concerns, even if it was futile. 

“Don’t think I won’t come down here and string you up by your ears, fox,” Bonnie threatened. 

“I wouldn’t dream of underestimating you,” Nick said.

Bonnie leveled a final glare at him before leaving her seat to wrap Judy in a hug. Stu latched onto both of them, eyes still leaking profusely. Judy rubbed her cheeks against both of her parents. “I love you guys,” she told them. 

Stu stepped back to let the two does have a moment. Judy caught Nick looking distinctly uncomfortable out of the corner of her eye as he made small talk with her father and Hecat. She turned back to her mother. 

“You be careful,” her mother said. 

“I know, mom. Just get back up there and start feeding mortals again.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“I can’t wait for you to see what I can do now, mom. I can help you, if you need me to.”

Bonnie gave her a soft look. “I’m positive that you’re amazing, bun bun. Show me soon.” Her gaze moved over Judy’s shoulder. “You’re sure you’re happy here?” she asked.

Judy laughed lightly. “Well, I can’t say this is what I’ve been dreaming of since I was a kit. But yeah, mom, I’m happy.”

“Good. Those gods can be sneaky, so be safe. Don’t let him get away with anything.”

Judy rolled her eyes. “I won’t.”

Bonnie gave her a final hug. “I’ll see you soon.”

“See you soon, mom.”

Judy gave her father another tearful hug and a promise to visit in short order. Then Hecat escorted her parents back to the mortal realm, and Judy was left alone with Nick.

He smiled gently at her, a relaxed look on his face that she hadn’t realized she’d been missing recently. She slid into a hug and he laughed, a relieved, grateful sound. In an instant they were overlooking the Underworld, standing on the same ledge he’d shown her when she asked to see his favourite place here. It was just as breathtaking as the first time. Several minutes passed in quiet as they appreciated the scene below them.

Eventually Nick turned to her, eyes glinting in the dim light. “What first?” he asked.

“We should get to work,” she said. She had renewed energy, despite all that still needed to be done. They’d need to confirm that Hayra was being effectively dealt with, and it would take some time before the mortal realm was in decent shape. There were still souls to manage, on top of that. 

Nick groaned. “You just don’t quit.”

"Nope." She grinned and looked up at him, propping her chin on his chest. “You know you love me,” she teased.

“Do I know that?” Judy’s ears perked up as he paused. He finished with a smirk, “Yes, yes I do.”

Judy’s cheeks ached with the force of her smile, and she tugged his face down to hers. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to Matri for correctly guessing who would play Cerberus a few chapters back! (It had to be done, though Zero_to_Hero44's suggestion of a venus fly trap had me seriously considering a rewrite.)


	9. Chapter 9 (Epilogue)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's done! Thanks to anyone who gave this crazy idea a shot! It was tons of fun to write and I just hope that it was half as enjoyable to read.

Nick was in the middle of what was threatening to devolve into his first--well, second--fight with his favourite bunny. 

“No, Carrots, we are not keeping him.”

“But Nick, look at those toes!” 

“Seriously boss, how heartless are you?” Clawhauser pouted. Nick gave him an exasperated look. 

The cub wriggled and cooed from his place in Carrot’s arms. The young tiger was nearly as big as her, and had to be heavy. As Nick watched, she stomped the ground lightly and roots shot up to wrap themselves into a bassinet that she laid the cub into. He shrieked in protest before Clawhauser took over entertainment duties. 

His bunny crossed her arms and glared pointedly at him. They’d been having this discussion for the last week of the tiger’s stay with them in the Underworld.

“Carrots...even if I wanted to keep him here, he’s gotta go back to Giraffrodite. She said you can visit,” Nick said, for what felt like the dozenth time.

“What does she have that we don’t?

“Uh, sunlight? Other young mammals? Food that he can eat?”

She rolled her eyes, but Carrots was rational. Usually. “Fine. I’ll visit.”

Nick sighed with relief. He didn’t hate the cub, not at all, but it was a lot of responsibility on top of an already full load. “Clawhauser, take the little one back for us?”

“You got it, boss. See you later, Judy,” the cheetah cooed, eyes never leaving the cub, who looked on the verge of sleep. Clawhauser lifted him and the feline pair was gone in an instant. 

The bunny looked like she might actually cry. Nick changed direction fast. “Dinner?”

A sniffle. “I guess so.”

Nick wrapped an arm around her as they walked out of his office. “Tell me about your week. I feel like I’ve hardly seen you.”

Carrots perked up and talked animatedly as they made their way to the gardens. She liked to eat there--her own quality control, she called it. It was a simple thing that Nick hadn’t realized he’d like so much, just eating dinner together. Time for only them, a brief respite from the otherwise crazy schedule they both adhered to.

It hadn’t taken too long to deal with the overflowing mess of souls once Bonnie got a handle on restoring fertility to the mortal realm. He’d had reservations about asking Carrots to release Pardinthe for her help escorting a pawful of souls below, but shockingly the nymph had managed to stay out of trouble and actually assist the other staff. There would likely always be a bit of a backlog, though the system was always being fine tuned. If anyone was going to perfect it, Nick had no doubt it was the rabbit sitting across from him.

“Then he actually had the nerve to suggest he squeeze poor Gary’s neck until he went to sleep! I told him he couldn’t do that, of course, and had a chat with Gary. In the end he was more than happy to go with Purrcules for the day. Apparently they had fun together,” she finished her story.

Nick snorted. “Gary just likes scaring mammals as much as possible. I’m sure the mortal king wasn’t expecting _that_ to show up in his throne room.”

“Probably not,” she agreed. “Gary did seem pleased with himself when he got home.”

“Thanks for handling that, Carrots.”

She gave Nick a fond smile and a squeeze of his paw that threatened to melt him even months since the first time. “That’s the last big thing this week, I think. Though we’re both scheduled to meet with a mortal in a couple days. It’s a really sad story--apparently his wife is a new arrival.”

Nick frowned. “I’ve heard of it. The depressed musician?”

“That’s the one. Poor mammal.”

“We’ll do what we can.”

His bunny continued to talk about her week, and Nick wondered to himself how he’d ever thought he wanted to do this job alone for the next millennia. 

\----------------------------------

Judy’s attention was tugged away from the painting she was admiring. It was odd, a large portrait of a creature that she didn’t recognize. Maybe a monster? But it looked too beautiful to be dangerous, with a curving neck and a strange elongated muzzle. Not that all monsters had to be dangerous--Gary proved the expectation to that rule, at least with Judy. But this creature was distinct. It had no paws, and its fur was odd, thick and broad blue-green strands lying in a cascading pattern down its body. The fur on its tail was the most striking, fanning out in a colourful arch. 

“Apparently it’s a favourite of Hayra’s,” Nick shrugged as he wrapped a paw around hers. He was wearing his green shirt for the occasion of their visit today. The garment had come to hold a special place in Judy’s heart. 

“What is it?” she asked, nodding at the painting. 

“Not a clue. You’d have to ask Hayra.”

Judy snorted softly and turned away--it was a beautiful painting, but she was in no rush to speak to the queen. Never would be plenty soon enough. 

“Remind me again why I need to be at this summit?”

“You don’t _need_ to be, but I want you to suffer with me. And you had to meet my other brother at some point. Now is as good a time as any.”

Judy shook her head and smiled. They’d been making more frequent trips to Zoolympus, but neither craved the company of the other gods and goddesses. For her part, Judy was happy to stay in the Underworld and the mortal realm, but the truth was that Nick rarely did anything without her anymore. She had complained once that he didn’t need to drag her to every function, but he had told her with such sincerity that they were partners and that he intended to include her in everything she was willing to be a part of that she hadn’t made a peep about the matter since. She was always warmed by his trust--her mother was getting there, too, but it would be some time yet before they were in a place of complete understanding. 

Nick led them to an airy, open space. To Judy’s relief there was only one mildly taxing staircase on the way. The sky was bright pink above them today, and it reflected on the polished white marble as they walked up to the other mammals waiting for them at a large round table. 

Moos was present, looking surly as ever. His marital strife had not eased in the past several months. Beside him sat a lion Judy had never seen before, and a small white sheep with an exceptionally poofy head of wool. 

The lion grinned widely at Judy. She gave a tight lipped smile back. He seemed pleasant enough, but she knew to be wary. The sheep beside him, however, looked entirely non-threatening and Judy offered her a genuine smile as she took the vacant seat on her left. 

“Carrots, this is my brother, Leoseidon. Brother, this is--”

“Judy, my lord,” she cut in, shooting Nick a look. He just shrugged. Her name sounded strange coming from him at this point, for all the pawful of times that he’d ever used it, but that didn’t mean she wanted the rest of the Zoolympians running with the nickname. 

“A pleasure. You may call me Leo,” the lion practically purred. Definitely a bit slimy, Judy thought. “And this is my assistant, Bellwether.”

The sheep beamed and babbled immediately. “So nice to meet you, Judy. I help my lord with--”

“ _Can it_ , Bellwether,” Leo snapped. Judy raised an inquisitive brow at Nick, but turned back to the sheep as she whispered to Judy something about sticking together. 

“I didn’t realize consorts were invited to this get together,” Moos commented drily. 

“How’s Hayra enjoying the islands, Moos?” Nick asked, ignoring his jab entirely.

“Fine, thank you,” the bull ground out. Nick smirked. 

“First order of business is this new season,” Leo cut in. “The mortals haven’t been happy with it. They’re complaining about the cold and the need to store food after the harvest. Some have said they were unprepared.”

“There’s not much to be done about that,” Judy said. “My mother needed a break after getting the earth back to growing condition. It's going to be this way every year. They’ll have to adjust, but if they’re struggling to store enough food, we can send some from the Underworld to hold them over. Only until they learn to do it for themselves.”

“Is that safe?” Leo frowned.

“As soon as it’s in the mortal realm, it’s all perfectly edible. And delicious,” Nick said.

“And with me assisting my mother during the next growing season, there shouldn’t be a need for it past this season.”

“Fine. Then moving on…” Moos started the next motion. Within two hours, Judy had listened to the two brothers bicker more than truly solve any of the minor issues that were on the table, but she’d been able to interject her own opinions several times. Nick gave her an approving glance each time she did, usually happy to let her speak on his behalf. 

They’d moved to wine and food, and Leo was subjecting them to the long winded tale of how he’d recently lost a contest to Panthena. In Judy’s mind, the wise goddess had--not surprisingly--been able to outsmart the god, and he was only stinging from a bruised ego. 

He wrapped up his story and looked between Judy and Nick. “Say, brother, this bunny of yours is an interesting one. Cute and feisty.”

Nick bristled, but Moos jumped in with a smug, “I knew they’d make a good couple.”

“You are perceptive like that, brother,” Leo agreed.

Judy raised a finger to point out that his supposed perceptiveness had nearly destroyed the mortal realm, but Nick shook his head at her with an exasperated expression. 

“Wonderful as this was, we should be getting back,” Nick said, nearly dragging Judy from her seat. 

Judy offered a wave behind her. She frowned as she caught Bellwether giving Leo a scheming glare. Perhaps the sheep wasn’t as harmless as Judy first thought. Having first paw experience with certain immortals’ capacity for wrath, Judy was taking no chances. She’d keep an eye on the small sheep.

They were back in the Underworld before Nick spoke again.

“You’ve met most of the family now. Scared off, yet?”

It was intended as a joke, Judy knew, but the slight tension under the words belied Nick’s lingering insecurity that eventually she would want to leave the Underworld permanently. She couldn’t imagine a day where that would ever be something she desired, even if the option were presented. 

“They’re bad, but you more than make up for them,” she told him. “And, Moos did have a point.”

Nick gave her an incredulous look. “Excuse me?”

She nudged his side. “We do make a good couple,” she smiled. 

“Oh. Well that’s true.”

They walked for a few moments longer before Judy mused aloud. 

"Should we...actually get married?"

Nick tilted his head for a few moments, pretending to consider this. She rolled her eyes. He’d asked her at least a half-dozen times already, and each time she’d said they should wait until things were more stable.

"Let's give it a couple decades, just so it doesn't go to his head."

Judy boxed his arm, maybe a _little_ harder than usual, and bounced up to kiss the smirk off his muzzle.


End file.
